


All I Ask of You

by CupidAtTheFlight



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7392163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupidAtTheFlight/pseuds/CupidAtTheFlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Killian Jones plans to set sail with the Jolly Roger for a promised treasure, but gets distracted by a beautiful, blonde in Snow White’s castle. The future of Princess Emma’s kingdom depends on her reaching the islands where Killian is heading. But how can she share her secrets with a pirate, and how can she protect her heart from falling for him along the journey?<br/>AU, Enchanted Forest, Curse never happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Name, Dear Lady

Killian Jones awoke with a splitting headache. _Nothing new there_ , he thought as he slowly realized he had fallen asleep sitting up.

Cracking open one startling blue eye, Killian blinked rapidly against the shaft of light beaming through the cracks in the room. _Not the Jolly Roger_ , he noted from the stillness that surrounded him. No sound of waves calling him to the high seas, or of men grumbling of partaking too much the night before.

From his stiff back leaned against a hard wall, he surmised he did not follow any ravishing lasses to bed. _More’s the pity_ , he cracked a smile, and winced when his jaw rebelled at the move. His brains scrambled to piece together details of the night before.

He reached up with his good hand to massage crick in his neck and clear away the cobwebs in his brain, when Killian heard the rattle of chains, and felt the heavy metal pull against his skin. _This is new, and probably not good_.

Letting his eyes focus, he saw it was not simply a room, but a cell, in what looked to be the well-kept dungeon of a castle. He appeared to be the only inmate, with no guards or other prisoners, with the exception of a small mouse staring silently at him. _MistHaven_ , he sighed to himself. _So I am a guest of King David and Queen Snow White_. “Can’t say much for the royals’ hospitality,” he muttered to the mouse, wincing slightly as the echo the words pushed through his skull.

The events of yesterday came flooding back to Killian as he forced himself fully awake. There had been a tavern. There had been a brawl with the royal guards. There had been a giant of a man, and a talk of treasure.

Brushing off his dark pants, two things became very clear to Killian. One: he needed to get out of the cell. Leaning over toward the bars, he caught the glimmer of light against metal and slowly smiled. There, not 10 feet from his cell and hanging against the wall, was his gleaming hook, right next to a set of large keys. “You wouldn't want to get that for me, would you?” he queried the mouse, who answered by simply washing his whiskers. Killian sighed, “Though not.”

Standing up slowly, testing his legs, Killian reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a hair pin, plucked casually from the ravishing, brunette barmaid who served tempting smiles along with rum last night. Placing the pin in his mouth, Killian maneuvered it into the lock on his chain until he heard the telltale click of release. “Pirate,” he said by way of explanation to the mouse as the chain fell to the ground.

Killian moved to the cell door. Pushing a wayward strand of dark hair from his eyes, he assessed the sturdy-looking bolt lock on the door. A slow smile crept across his full lips as he set the pin to work once again. Amending the list in his head, Killian realized that one: he was about to escape this prison with ease. And two: he was right where he wanted to be.

 ~CS~

Several floors above, the Princess Amelia Ruth Evaline of MistHaven, known as Emma to her loved ones, shoved the frothy folds of her delicate pink ball gown angrily between her legs and flopped down on the marble steps edge of the grand ballroom that led to the immense palace gardens.

“This. Is. Hopeless,” she muttered, though her voice echoed across the empty ballroom, as did the patient sigh in response that stretched across the enormous room. _Of course, even Belle’s sighs are ladylike_ , Emma thought, rolling her eyes at her best friend whose hands remained poised in the dance move she was trying to show the princess.

Belle lowered her hands, walking toward Emma. Technically, she was the princess’ lady-in-waiting, but ever since they met as children, Belle and Emma had been inseparable. It was Emma who threatened to knock down anyone who mocked Belle for her love of books and tales, and Belle who generally kept Emma from knocking anyone down. “Nothing is ever hopeless, Emma,” she said slowly. “You were showing great improvement with the waltz.”

Emma threw Belle an incredulous look and leaned her elbow on a higher step. Propping her chin on her hand, she blew a few wayward strands of blonde hair from her face. “You mean the fact that I only stepped on your toes _four or five times_ during the waltz?”

Belle smiled, moving toward her friend. “Exactly,” she declared with her usual bright demeanor.

Shaking her head, Emma looked down and reached out to pull threads off her pink, dancing slippers. “It’s pointless anyway,” she said quietly. "It’s not like I won't get engaged because I can’t dance.” A moment later, she felt Belle’s comforting hand on her shoulder, but she refused to look at her friend. This had been her choice.

Emma’s parents, Snow and David, had always promised her she would marry for love as they did, but none of them predicted the danger that loomed over the kingdom. Over the last few years, Queen Cora’s reach had grown from her nearby lands to MistHaven. Though she never acted directly, everyone knew she encouraged the raids of privateers and bandits. Queen Snow’s soldiers did all they could, but she feared for her people. Finally, the king and queen sent their older son, Augustus, on a mission to gather assistance from neighboring kingdoms, but it had been three weeks since his last message traveled home by bird. And Emma could see the toll the worry was taking on her parents.

It was Cora who suggested Princess Amelia meet with her adopted son, Prince Walsh. Her daughter, Regina, had run away with the stable boy, scandalizing the kingdom, and fueling songs and sonnets of their forbidden love. Belle knew most of them, and would sing them to Emma while she learned to fence and ride and sail. Emma might be a princess, but she was first and foremost the daughter of Snow White, who would only ever ask her daughter to be true to herself. Snow and David both wanted to refuse Cora’s request, saying they could never sell their daughter into a marriage, but Emma surprised them all and accepted the invitation, stipulating only that it take place in MistHaven. She knew what her parents would not believe, that without this marriage, war was coming to her kingdom.

“You don’t have to marry him,” Belle said softly, but Emma refused to meet her gaze. Though Belle’s father owned most of the merchant ships in MistHaven, she was not technically of royal blood. She would be expected to marry well, but the choice would be hers. Placing her hands on Emma’s, Belle smiled. “Oooooor, perhaps you might just fall madly in love with him at first sight, and you’ll live happily…”

A strangled groan left Emma’s lips. “Ugh, don’t say it! If you tell me ONE more story that ends that way, I’ll eat my dancing slipper!” Emma whipped off the flimsy footwear to emphasize her point, and Belle laughed. Raising one eyebrow, Emma spun the slipper on her finger. “And what might be causing these romantic ideas to pop into your head, Lady Belle? Could it be a certain cousin who might be accompanying the royal party to the ball?”

A shade of pink brighter than Emma’s dress rose to Belle’s cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said lightly, but looked away, as if taking a sudden interest in the gardens.

Emma laughed and looked at her friend. Everyone knew Belle harbored feelings for William of the House of Scarlet. Everyone, except Will. Of course, Emma couldn’t blame him. Though he held no designs for a crown, he was the cousin of Cora’s husband, King Henry, which made him the next in line behind Walsh. And being anywhere near Cora meant trouble, as far as Emma was concerned. Still, if she did marry Walsh, then it might not take much to convince Belle to come to court with her when she left home. The thought brought a frown to Emma’s features.

Belle looked to see the sadness in her friend’s sea-green eyes. “That’s enough talk of love and marriage!” she declared brightly. Pulling Emma up from the steps, she positioned the princess in front of her. “Now,” she began firmly with a tone that let Emma know she was back on dance duty. “Let me see you curtsy to your partner.”

Rolling her eyes, Emma gave an exaggerated dip that practically dropped down to her knees. “Milord!” Belle tried to hold a stern look in her eye, but was quickly dissolving into laughter.

The sound of someone clearing his throat startled Emma and Belle, and both turned quickly to see a figure dressed in black slipping into the vast doorway of the ballroom. “Pardon my intrusion, dear ladies,” said Killian with a grand bow. “Might I lend my expertise to this situation?”

~CS~

 _This is a bad idea_ , thought Killian as he strode into the ballroom. _Get in, get the map, and get out_ , his instincts screamed at him. He had made it out of the woefully guarded dungeon area without incident—which was rather nice as dungeons went, he had to admit. Just as Killian had expected, the entire household was busy with preparations for the ball, just as the harbor guard would be. Getting up to the map room proved just as easy, though locating the map to the Deravan Islands took a few more minutes than he anticipated due to nearly non-existent filing system of the maps. _Royals could take a lesson or two from the Navy_ , he thought as he folded the map and slipped it into a pocket concealed inside his vest.

His men would be readying the Jolly Roger for sail on the evening tide. All they had to do was blend in with the heavy ship traffic coming in and out of the harbor, and head for the islands. It would be easy. It would be….

Treading lightly past a set of massive doors, Killian promptly froze. He leaned back slowly to the opening. He’d heard the term ‘breathtaking’ countless times, and even employed it when the mood struck him. But this was the first time Killian Jones ever felt his breath rush from his body at the sight of a woman—a devastatingly beautiful blonde, who at the moment was spinning a pale, pink shoe on her finger.

Even from across the distance of the ballroom, something about the woman drew Killian through the door. Legends of sirens who lured sailors to their doom drifted in his mind, but something pulled him closer to her. He watched her exaggerated bow, and bit back a smile. Before he could stop himself, Killian cleared his throat. “Pardon my intrusion, dear ladies. Might I lend my expertise to this situation?”

Both women jumped in response. The dark-haired woman drew herself up to her minimal height. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, her eyebrow arched as if answers to her questions were always answered, and promptly. _Gods, another royal_ , thought Killian. He offered her one of his most devastating smiles before he dared to meet the eyes of the siren who called him silently into the room.

“Oh, I am happy to provide myself for any needs of a beautiful woman,” Killian said in a low voice, offering her a knowing smirk as Belle’s eyes widened and a blush crept up her cheeks once again. “But in this instance, I meant dancing.” He turned to Emma, who stood with her hands on her hips, clearly unimpressed and far from blushing. Killian ran his tongue along his bottom lip, raised his eyes to meet hers, and felt it—lightening striking a raging sea. Whatever had drawn him toward her now hit him with a jolt that was infinitely more powerful as he stood before her. Killian remained transfixed for a beat before he forced himself to catch his breath and hold out a hand. “May I?”

Emma had not moved from the moment she laid eyes on him. _Dangerous_ , she thought. _This man could only be dangerous for you_. With dark hair casually askew, he strode toward them as if taking a walk in the park, but something about him reminded Emma of a sleek ship readying for battle. Yet when his striking blue eyes lifted to hers, Emma found herself reaching and taking his proffered hand. “And what could you possibly teach me that others could not?” she said before she realized the words had slipped from her lips.

Killian pulled an arm around Emma’s back and eased her toward him. His hand slid into hers and he smiled. “Why choose a partner who knows what he's doing, of course.”

Before Belle could squeak her protest, Killian and Emma launched into an easy waltz. “That’s it, love. Just find your pace,” he whispered, and Emma found herself fighting goosebumps with his breath caressing her ear.

Clamping down on her self-control, Emma offered him a small, unladylike snort in reply. “Travel the realms teaching dancing lessons? How does that work for you?” she asked, forcing her voice to take on a tone of displeasure, and wondering why on Earth she let a stranger sweep her into a dance--no matter how right it felt. 

He chuckled softly. “Surprisingly well, when I find a beautiful woman in my arms,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Emma couldn’t resist the urge to laugh. “Who _are_ you?” she asked, as he bent on one knee to allow her to walk around him as he held tight to her hand.

Killian rose and pulled her closer than before. “I would love to tell you that I am your destiny, but I think you might scoff at that. So I can only offer my name, Killian Jones.”

Shaking her head, Emma smiled, “Oh, you are good. Do many women fall for that line?” she asked as he lifted her off the ground and then twirled her in a move she never before could master with her instructors or Belle.

Standing on the steps, Belle clapped her hands in delight. Killian and Emma looked at her and his eyes grew large. Just behind Belle several royal guards were descending from the gardens. Killian stepped away, and gave Emma a bow. “I fear I must leave you, my dear. My ship sails tonight. But do give me your name before I take my leave.”

He watched as her eyebrows furrowed in question, but it was then that the guards burst into the ballroom. “Stand aside, your majesty!” one of the yelled, and Emma raced to grab Belle out of the way of the charging men.

Killian dashed toward another open door, but more guards were lumbering his way. Cursing to himself, he grabbed onto the thick, velvet curtain that lined the doors to the gardens and scaled up to the golden rail. As he swung from the curtain and grabbed onto the curtain rail, he called to Emma, “A name, beautiful lady!” Moving hand over hook along the rail and across the open door, the guards gathered beneath him. Killian launched himself from the rail to a lower ledge, then kicked the curtain rail loose, sending the curtain tumbling to men below. As the guards fumbled to untangle themselves, Killian leapt from the ledge to the curtain near Emma and Belle. He slid to the ground in front of them and walked purposely to Emma. “Your name, my lady, is all I ask of you, aside from this.” Sweeping her into his arms, Killian brushed his lips gently against hers.

Belle gasped beside her, but Emma smiled sweetly as Killian pulled away. He glanced back to the guards who were making their way from the billowing curtains. “Now, please, my lady, a ….” Killian turned back just in time to see Emma’s fist come flying out of the air.

“Emma, no!” screamed Belle.

 _Emma, you may be the end of me_ , thought Killian, before he collapsed to the floor.


	2. Killian, I Need You

Killian Jones awoke with a pulsing throb in his left cheek. _This feels familiar, and not in a good way_ , he thought. Attempting to peel open his eyes, he squinted at the fading sunlight pouring in the room. _Not room…cell_ , he realized with a sigh, surveying the sight of the very dungeon where he began his day. “So much for forward progress, eh?” he muttered to himself.

Pulling at the chain he now knew would be secured around his right hand, he sighed. This time his brain did not have to scramble for answers, it settled soundly on the image of a beautiful blonde who landed a mean right hook. A slow smile crept up his lips at the memory of sweeping her into his arms.

 _Emma_ , he let the name whisper through his mind as he gingerly touched the swelling skin of his cheek. _At least I have a name to go with the temper._

With a sudden realization, Killian’s hand whipped to his hidden vest pocket. Relief washed over him as the outline of both the map and the barmaid’s pin met his touch. _Royals don’t learn quickly, do they?_ he thought, working to maneuver his hand to reach into his breast pocket. It was then he spied the two guards staring…no, _grimacing_ at him from stools outside his cell. One sported a bandage on his head Killian surmised was due to a rather large, golden curtain rail that rained down upon him earlier in the day. _Perhaps royals can learn a thing or two_ , he conceded with a snort.

Killian pondered calling on the giant to come to his rescue, though something Anton told him yesterday hinted that he would not be pleased with Killian’s latest round of palace pillaging.

Odd that it was just yesterday when Killian sat in the tavern, waiting for Sir Anton, who announced his presence with the muted rattle of coins in a goat-skin pouch that slapped against the aging wood of the tavern table.

Pausing from lifting a small tankard of rum to his mouth, Killian had cocked a dark eyebrow. “What, Anton? No ‘Nice to see you, Hook?’ I’m crushed,” he said, smiling as the giant man eased into the rickety chair across from him. Setting down his rum, Killian leaned in and whispered in a loud, exaggerated tone. “I know this is supposed to be a clandestine meeting, but the least you could do is say hello to an old friend.”

Anton sighed, as if knowing their meeting would never begin until he indulged the pirate. “Hello, Hook. Thank you for coming, but whether it is nice to see you depends on what you have to tell me, does it not?”

Killian leaned back in his chair and studied Anton for a moment. He knew using the word “friend” was pushing it, but he never could resist trying to fluster the man. It had been years since Killian and several of his crew crept into the palace of Queen Cora to steal a reported stash of magic beans. Instead, they came across a chained Anton, held prisoner and threatened with starvation unless he revealed the path to the land of the giants.

Though the man was easily 7 feet high, Killian scoffed at his crew’s desire to leave a starving man simply because he may have giants’ blood in his veins. Declaring it “bad form” to keep any man chained without food or water, Killian freed Anton. It turned out the behemoth man did know secrets, just not of the giants. He was a knight in King David’s special guard at MistHaven—a spy. That day, Anton earned Killian’s trust, and his business.

“Aye, I have word of your missing ship,” said Killian, tracing a finger in a ring of rum left on the table. “And I suppose you wish me to go after it.”

To his surprise, Anton shook his head. “This is no treasure you can keep, Hook. The cargo is much more precious than gold or jewels.” He leaned in closer, and the table creaked under his massive weight. “I need to know if there were survivors, and where those survivors might be.”

Killian angled back in his chair. _Cargo more precious than gold_ —the idea intrigued him, “If there were any survivors, they and the _precious_ cargo would have drifted up to the southern Deravan Islands, my guess would be to start at Spears Head on the southwest tip.”

Instead of the look of dismissal or disappointment Killian expected, the bulbous man simply answered with a grave nod of the head. “That’s what I feared,” he said quietly, and placed his meaty fingers along his chin, lost in thought. After a moment, he seemed to come to a conclusion and glanced at Killian. “Thank you, Hook. This information could save many.” He moved to rise from the chair, and the rough-hewed wood creaked in protest.

Shrugging off the thanks, Killian tapped Anton’s sleeve with his hook. “You know, if you need any help with this cargo, my ship will be ready to sail tomorrow on the evening tide,” he said casually.

Anton offered him a knowing smile. “This cargo is more political than you can handle, Hook.” He glanced down at the hook pushing slightly into the material of his sleeve. “And even you cannot navigate those islands without a map.” He placed his free hand on Killian’s hook and delicately lifted it from his sleeve. Rising slowly, he turned toward the tavern door.

Killian leaned back and scratched behind his ear with his good hand. “Don’t suppose you have a map of the islands handy, old friend?”

Turning back to Killian, Anton sighed. “I’m afraid the only one I know is guarded quite well in the palace, Hook.” Leaning down, Anton loomed over Killian. It was an attempt to make him retreat both physically and mentally, Killian knew, but he stayed immobile in his chair until he was practically nose-to-nose with the giant man. “You have done well,” Anton said in earnest, though his voice dropped as he added, “Don’t make me regret asking for your help.” From his tone, Killian understood he would be the one with regrets if he continued.

Lifting his arms in mock surrender, Killian only smiled. “Just trying to be of use, mate,” he said, and threw a dark-haired barmaid a mischievous wink to ease the worry in her brow at seeing Anton’s threatening stance. She blinked, blushed a charming shade of red, and pushed the strands of her luxurious, brown hair back toward the small, pined bun on top of her head.

A deep chucked erupted from Anton. “Stay out of trouble, Hook,” he warned, but his smile betrayed the humor he found in the pirate. “With the ball coming up, there are more palace guards than even you know what to do with.” Anton strode to the tavern door, moving out of the way to allow a small group of guards to enter.

 _More guards in a quiet town, looking for something to do_ , thought Killian. _Looking for someone to arrest and place in the palace dungeon_. Pausing only for a moment, he slammed down the remainder of his rum and jumped up with a dramatic flourish. Making sure he had the guards’ attention, he walked with an exaggerated, drunken stagger to the table where the barmaid was serving a drink to a large, and rather hairy, man. “Who do YOU think you are, touching this fine lady?” he slurred.

“What?” the man growled, the word billowing a rush of air through his long beard.

Killian winked at the barmaid, and then proceeded to poke the man in front in his chest, emphasizing each action with his words. “Who.” _Poke._ “Do.” _Poke._ “You.” _Poke._ “Think.” _Poke._ “You” _Poke_ “Are?” _Poke. Poke._

Out of the corner of his eye, two of the guards slowly rose. Killian smiled. _Anton can’t blame me for this one_ , he thought as he prepared to push the bear of a man also rising in front of him. _After all, he practically gave me the idea_.

~CS~

The unofficial giant of man, Sir Anton of MistHaven, stood stoically in front of his king and queen. He words were always urgent, and taken with great weight, but at this moment he found himself waiting patiently while his king interrogated his daughter.

“What do you mean you DANCED with him, Emma? This man was an escaped criminal,” David’s voice reverberated across the throne room.

Emma rolled her eyes, and Snow quickly stepped in before this little father-daughter talk escalated. “Technically, he was only charged with causing a drunken brawl,” Snow corrected calmly, placing herself in front of David, who shot his wife a look. Snow glanced back to her daughter, standing with her arms firmly crossed. “Of course, I’m sure your father’s point is that dancing with unknown men is not generally a great idea, Emma.”

Any word of protest died on Emma’s lips. “You’re right,” she said simply, and flopped down on the nearest padded chair.

David’s eyes bugged in surprise. “I’m right?” He looked at Snow. “Quick, get a scribe in here. I want to record the moment my daughter admitted I was right!”

Emma rolled her eyes again. “ _Technically_ , I said mom was right,” she said, but gave her father a slight smile, which quickly faded. “Honestly, I have no idea why I danced with him. He was just suddenly there, and smiling, and bowing, with these blue eyes, and the next thing I knew….”

“Yes, well, that’s enough of that,” Snow said quickly, trying to draw David’s attention away from the confused…no _dreamy_ …look taking over her daughter’s features. “I’m sure Emma learned her lesson, and Sir Anton has waited long enough.” She waved Anton forward quickly. “You have news, Anton?”

Stepping forward, Anton bowed, and tried to stifle the image of Killian sweeping Emma into a dance. Though her parents had taught her to ride and fence, and her brother Augustus taught her to sail, it was Anton who led the princess’ studies in philosophy, mathematics, and languages. She had a bright mind, but an insatiably curious nature that reminded him too much of the pirate whom he would have to release sooner or later from the dungeon below. _Perhaps much later_ , he thought, with a glance to Emma.

“I believe my sources have discovered Prince Augustus’ ship did disappear around the southern Deravan Islands,” he said. Snow gasped and clutched David.

“We’ll send a fleet as soon as they can set sail tomorrow,” David announced and called for one of the servants standing outside the door. “Go to the map room and fetch the map of the Deravan Islands, at once,” he commanded, and the page dashed away.

Anton knew confirming the possible destruction of their son’s ship would be difficult, but his next words would be even harder to hear. “Your majesties, it may be best for just one or two ships to sail to the islands.”

Snow and David stared at Anton. “But he could be hurt,” Snow said. “We can’t take the chance that a second ship could get caught in another storm.”

“We won’t lose our son,” David agreed.

Anton raised his hands, calling for calm. “I fear, your highness, that this was not the work of a storm, but perhaps one of a queen.”

“Cora,” Emma hissed, and her parents’ eyes widened.

Snow shook her head. “No, she wouldn’t dare.”

Emma jumped up. “You _know_ she would,” she declared. “I thought if I met her stupid son, she might, just might, back off.”

David looked at his daughter. “Emma, we don’t have proof that is Cora’s work,” he said, giving Snow’s arms a reassuring squeeze. Turning to Anton, he announced, “Right now, we just need to concentrate on getting August back. Anton, what do you need? Two ships? We can have them ready to go by the morning tide.”

Anton opened his mouth to speak, but Emma’s voice cut him off. “The morning? He’s already been waiting weeks.” Her eyes widened. “The evening tide…I know a ship that can leave tonight.”

Snow moved slightly from David’s embrace to turn to her daughter. “Is it one of Belle’s father’s ships?”

Emma chewed her lip, refusing to meet her mother’s eyes. “Well, no, it actually is…I mean, I know a guy who is sailing on it…” David’s eyebrows shot up in question. “Okay!” Emma yelled. “It’s the ship of the guy in the dungeon. I mean, I don’t know if it’s his ship, but….”

“No!” her parents shouted in unison.

Just then, the page returned, empty-handed. “My lord,” he said in a bow, “the map is nowhere to be found.”

Snow muttered to her husband, “I told you that map room need reorganizing, David.” He sighed. “Look again!” he commanded.

Anton folded his hands, tapping his thumbs together in contemplation. “I believe I know where the map might be your majesties,” he said, not looking forward to the conversation he would have with Killian if his suspicions were true. “If you will excuse me, I will go retrieve it.”

David nodded at Anton’s bow and turned to Emma. Or at least he turned to the chair where Emma was once seated. “Where is Emma?” he asked, and Snow’s eyes darted to the chair.

“Oh lovely,” she shouted, tears brimming in her eyes. “Now we’ve lost another one. David, why can’t we keep track of our children?”

David gave a soft laugh and pulled his wife into his arms. “We’ll get August back, Snow. Don’t worry, sweetheart.” And her arms wrapped around her husband as the tears fell.

~CS~

Laying on a pile of fresh hay in his cell, Killian closed his eyes, remembering the graceful curve of Emma’s waist against his arm. He recalled the faint smell of lavender in her hair as he whispered into her ear, and her soft gasp as he brushed his lips to hers. _Emma_.

The door to the prison clanged loudly, but Killian ignored it. He would stay with his pleasant diversion until the guards switched at night, then slip away to the Jolly Roger, and sail away to the open sea, to the islands, to treasure, _then return to Emma_.

Startled by the unwanted final thought on his list, Killian sat up suddenly. He glanced to the floor of the cell to see a set of rather feminine boots standing near the bars. Slowly moving his gaze upward, he caught the sight of shapely legs, clad in leather. With a smirk, he allowed his eyes to travel up the waist hugged tight in a leather vest over a loose white blouse. “My, my, jailers are getting more and more attractive these… _Emma_?”

Killian took in the sight of the devastating blonde from his daydream, looking much more like a pirate herself. He glanced quickly back at the pile of hay, to ensure he wasn’t asleep and dreaming this vision. Seeing it empty, Killian quickly jumped up and moved toward the bars, until his chain stopped him in his tracks. Her brows furrowed at the sight of the chain.

Clearing his throat, Killian struggled to recover from his surprise. He offered her a smirk. “Couldn’t get enough of me, eh love?” he asked, running his tongue slightly over his bottom lip.

Emma’s eyes darted about the room. She moved quickly to the far wall and grabbed the keys dangling near the door. Walking toward him, she said, “Killian, I need you,” and began the search for the correct key to unlock the cell.

The words slammed through him harder than any summer squall. _She needs me, maybe as much as I need to be near her_. The certainty of that fact flooded him. Whomever this woman was, Killian _needed_ her. And until this moment, he had no idea how much he wanted that fact to be true for her as well.

The clank of metal signaled the release of the cell lock, and Emma threw open the door. Killian stretched out his arms, waiting for her embrace, but she only glanced at his left stump. “Your hook,” she murmured, and returned to the wall to retrieve his gleaming hook.

“A little kinky, but if you insist,” said Killian.

“What?” asked Emma as she reached out to offer him the hook. She paused, and her hand retreated. “Killian, I need passage on your ship, and I need to leave tonight.”

Killian’s arms dropped as the realization of her words sank into him. “You need my _ship_?” he asked slowly. As she nodded, Killian frowned. A long-dormant and slightly alien feeling gripped him—he thought perhaps it might be guilt. “Love,” he asked quietly, “did you suffer much from the others?” She gave him a questioningly look. “For dancing with me,” he clarified. It would not be the first time he heard of a young lady being run out of her home or chastised by her family for even talking to a man, especially in the so-called “higher” classes. But the idea that he could have caused this lovely creature pain sent a sick feeling to the pit of his stomach. 

"Dancing with you?” Emma asked in confusion. “No, my dad yelled a bit. But...Killian, listen to me. I need to be on that ship.” She stepped closer to him. “Do you think you can get me aboard? I need to convince the captain to take me to the Deravan Islands.”

Killian froze. _What the devil could Emma have to do with one of Anton’s schemes?_ he thought. Tilting his head to the side, he studied Emma. Perhaps she was more siren than he first assumed, though he never knew Anton to use beautiful seductresses to achieve his aims. Or perhaps the gods were smiling on Killian Jones for the first time in a long time. How else to explain the object of his desire and the precious cargo that awaited all pointed in the same direction? His devious smile returned. “The captain is a stubborn man, but not unreasonable,” he said slowly. His tongue flicked back to his lip. “What can you offer by way of payment, milady?”

Emma raised an eyebrow, and Killian chuckled softly. Taking a step back, she reached to her throat. Whatever Killian expected to have revealed, vanished from his mind as Emma pulled out the end of a sparking sapphire necklace. The jewels that glittered could keep the Jolly Roger in fresh supplies for a year. “Think this will do?” she asked sweetly. Killian recognized that smile. It was the one that preceded his aching cheek by way of Emma’s fist.

Offering her a benign smile of his own, Killian bowed. “My ship is at your service, my lady. Captain Hook is happy to welcome you aboard.” He glanced at the metal in Emma’s hand. “That is, of course, if you would be so kind as to return my hook.” Emma held the hook between them.

“ _Your_ ship?” she asked, then rolled her eyes. “I should have known.” She tossed him the hook, then set to work on the lock around his wrist.

Killian turned to give her better access to his wrist, and him better access to lean against her. “I shall like having you in close quarters, love,” he whispered against her ear, and was rewarded with what felt distinctly like a shiver. As the metal chain clattered to the ground, Killian flexed his fingers, savoring their freedom. It was then Emma shoved the pirate against the wall, emitting a surprised grunt from him.

“Now that’s something we haven’t discussed,” she said slowly, and Killian heard the sound of metal removed from a sheath and felt the pressure of a blade against his thigh. “You try and kiss me again, and you’ll lose something you’ll miss more than your hand.” She glanced down between them to make her message clear, and returned her endless sea-green eyes to his.

Clearing his throat, Killian smiled. “Yes, kissing you without permission was bad form on my part,” he said, giving her a slight bow of his head. “My sincerest apologies, milady. And I hope the shiner you administered to my cheek is compensation enough for my brutish behavior.” She kept her eyes on his for a moment, debating, then finally sheathed the knife and stepped away.

Needing a moment to recover from having her pressed against him, Killian busied himself by clicking the hook back into its rightful place, and brushing the straw from his leather jacket. He turned to Emma and gave her a slight bow. “Shall we away to the islands, dear Emma?” For a split second, Emma hesitated, and Killian felt a tinge of fear that she might actually change her mind. He knew then he would do anything to convince her to get on board. The rightness of having her there was a certainty for him. But she quickly nodded and walked through the open cell door.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Killian caught the scent of lavender mixed with leather as she moved past him. He knew his daydreams would now take a new turn. “This should be an interesting journey,” he said softly, and followed her out the dungeon door.


	3. Great, Now We Have Two of Them

~CS~

 _This is a bad idea_ , Emma thought as she looked up toward the giant ship, rocking gently in the harbor. It wasn’t the impending peril of the journey to the islands, or even the rough-looking crew scurrying to load the last of the supplies onto the Jolly Roger. No, it was the idea of being confined on a ship with _him_.

The memory of his breath ghosting her ear sent an involuntary shiver down Emma’s spine. _I shall like having you in close quarters_ , he had whispered to her. The way her body responded to those words should have sent her running in the other direction. Yet here she was, jogging toward the very ship in the wake of Killian’s leather duster jacket. Moving quickly through the crowded harbor, they dodged merchants and traders mingled with guests and dignitaries arriving for the ball. Emma swerved around one man attempting to pull a stubborn goat onto a gangplank.

 _Close quarters_. She had experienced one dance, _one dance_ , with the man, yet found herself thinking of Killian the rest of the day. She saw those piercing, blue eyes practically every time Emma closed her own. And it was more than the lingering memory of his dashing smirk that worried Emma. It lay in that one moment he drew her into his arms, striking at the very heart of her silent fears. Though she could ride and fight with a grace that matched the best of her parents’ knights, Emma rarely felt at ease with the social side of her title. Unlike Belle or her mother, Emma possess no penchant for commanding a ballroom the way she could command a horse racing across a field. For years, she watched her friends flirt and treat the intricate rhythms of the dance floor as a chess match of wit and whimsy. Yet Emma found herself without a single desire to jump into the fray, equaled only by a lack of desire for any man who approached her. That fact often left Emma feeling most alone in the middle of a crowded ball. _Choose the right partner_. As soon as Killian wrapped her in his embrace, all of Emma’s clumsiness with gowns, delicate slippers, and swirling music slipped away. For once, she longed to keep dancing.

Killian paused by a stack of large crates near the end of the Jolly’s Roger’s gangplank. He reached out behind him and stilled her with a protective hand. Emma swallowed hard at the gentle touch, then quickly chided herself. _August. This is about getting to August_. Her stomach clenched in dread when she thought of her brother marooned on some rocky, barren island. _Or worse,_ whispered that quiet, dark voice deep within. She shook it off and focused on August. When the dark memories came, it was August who had been there to comfort her. Her parents, called away on quests for the kingdom, or shouldering the burden of rule, loved her dearly, Emma knew. But it had been August who was there day in and day out.

A young princess made an easy target, and after Emma was kidnapped by giants, her mother insisted she be taught to fight alongside the knights. Though she excelled at swordplay and riding during the day, the frightening memories plagued young Emma each night. And it was August who came to her as she whimpered like a child in her bed night after night. _All right, I was child_ , Emma allowed herself, working to let go of the self-recrimination, just as August always urged her to do.

Emma knew what the kingdom thought of August. Known as a man who would make the wrong choice as often as the right one, his reputation for getting into trouble—especially with Will Scarlet—preceded him to lands beyond. But for Emma, he was a hero, a constant in her life that tended to slip quickly between calm and danger as much as the ship before her rocked in the rising tide.

Glancing up at the Jolly Roger, standing proud in the setting sun, Emma couldn’t help but think of how August gave her the greatest freedom of her life when he taught her to sail. Ever patient, he walked her through the rigging and tricky navigation of the stars. With the spray of the sea beckoning them further, August’s laughter would drift to the endless waves before them.

The feel of Killian’s arm upon hers pulled Emma from her thoughts. “Perhaps, you’d better wait here for a moment, love,” he said, looking to the ship. “I’ll give the crew a heads up before…”

Emma followed his gaze to the deck, where a tall…no giant…man paced slowly. “Anton,” she muttered. “What is he doing here?”

Killian snapped his eyes to hers, his brow narrowing. Emma squeezed his arm. “You have to get rid of him, Killian. He’ll never let us leave.” The questioning look remained on Killian’s features, and for a moment she thought he would ask the question she dreaded answering, _Who are you?_ But instead, he held her gaze only a second before nodding briskly and turning to the ship.

Emma ducked behind the crates as she heard Killian shout, “Why my old friend! How do I have the pleasure of you upon my ship?”

She waited a moment before attempting to peek around the crates. Before she could maneuver into a line of sight, a familiar voice boomed across the harbor. “Oy! There’s trouble for you!” Emma whipped her head around and cringed when she saw Will Scarlet heading her way at full stride. 

She peeked around the crates to see Killian and Anton in an animated discussion. Before she could turn around, Will whisked her off the ground and into a twirling hug. “Hullo, little princess!” he called, laughing. To her horror, he spun her out of the shelter of the crates. “Looks like you are dressed ready for adventure.”

Slapping him lightly and pointing to the ground, Emma hissed, “Shhhhhh, Will.”

Will let her slide to the ground, but kept his booming tone. “What are you doing down on the harbor, Em?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to her furtive glances to the Jolly Roger.

“I’m trying to get on a ship, _quietly_ ,” she snapped.

Will’s face scrunched in confusion. “If you want to go sailing, I can take you tomorrow,” he said, before giving her a light punch on the arm. “Come on, where is the hello for your old pal, Will? I haven’t seen you in months, and now this is the greeting I get?”

Angling her back toward the ship, Emma grabbed Will’s arm. “Listen to me,” she infused every word with the urgency she felt. “We’ve received word that August may be in trouble. This is the first ship leaving the harbor, and I’m going to be on it to find him. But not if you _blow my cover_ ,” she hissed again, watching the smile fall from Will’s features.

“Gus is in trouble?” he asked, returning Emma’s grasp on his arm. “Where is he? And where is your father’s ship?” Will looked almost frantically for the royal flag flying over a nearby vessel.

Emma took a breath. Of course Will would want to help August, one of his closest friends since childhood. “Will, it isn’t my father’s ship. It’s this one,” she motioned behind her, and watched Will’s eyes widen.

“You’re not getting on that bloody thing!” he yelled, making Emma cringe once again. One glance told her it was too late, both Anton and Killian were now focused on the spot where she stood talking to Will…or listening to Will yell. “Looks like it was attacked by bloody pirates. Hell, they may even _be_ pirates, Em!”

His grasp on her arm tightened, causing Emma to try and pull away. “Will,” she practically begged. “I have to get on that ship. I have to get to August if I can.”

Will shook his head and yanked Emma a few steps away from the ship. “No, there is no way August would want you to do this.” He turned to pull her further from the harbor. “There is no way your parents would want you to do this.” Turning abruptly, he added, “And there is no way I will let you get on some strange, bloody….”

It was then that Emma suddenly felt herself airborne, flying away at lighting speed from Will, who was tumbling head over heels down a hill. One look down at the arm clad in black leather around her waist, and Emma quickly surmised her flight was due to a certain pirate with a flair for theatrics. Looking up, she caught sight of his good hand, locked around a rope. Before she could even think to question his methods, Emma found herself zooming toward the surprised face of Anton, or—more precisely—his rather expansive chest. With a _whump_ , Emma and Killian smacked into the giant man before dropping to the deck. Wobbling to get her bearings, she turned to see Anton staggering back at the impact, his arms flailing to gain balance, and then vanishing over the side of the ship.

Dashing to the side, she watched Anton plunge into the water, with a tremendous splash in his wake. She gasped as he disappeared under the waves, only to resurface a second later, spluttering with indignation.

Eyes wide, she turned slowly to Killian, who wore a wide grin. “Two problems solved at once,” he announced. “Shall we set sail?”

A smaller sailor grunted as he hurried past. “Subtle as always, captain.”

“Thank you, Leroy,” Killian said, smacking the man on the back and sending him stumbling into Emma.

The frowning man looked up. “Who’s she?” he demanded, waving a thumb at Emma.

Killian finished peeking over the railing, and looked back with raised eyebrows. “Ah, yes, that would be the woman paying our wages for the next few days, my good man.” A few of the men stopped their duties to take in the sight of Emma. “Smee, weigh anchor!” he called, ignoring the small crowd of men gathering.

“Oh no,” growled Leroy over the sound of the anchor slowly churning out of the waters. “You promised no women on board. That was the deal!” he folded his arms and scowled at Emma, who found herself clenching her fists at Leroy’s expression, one she had fought most of her life.

“And why would you not want a woman on board?” she asked sweetly. Killian’s eyes shot to her with a wary expression, as if he recognized the danger in her smile.

Leroy brought two fingers up to Emma’s face. “One, they cannot sail. Two, they cannot fight. So, off the ship, sister.”

Emma’s smile widened, and Killian opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Emma reached out and yanked a knife from Leroy’s belt. Whipping it over his head, the blade landed next to a startled Mr. Smee, and sliced a rope. Emma jumped up and caught the rope’s edge, as one of the smaller sails connected to it came tumbling down. The ship rocked as the sail billowed and Emma pulled the rope to a side rigging, quickly and expertly tying it down. One of the sailors ran to the wheel as the sail caught a small breeze, and began navigating them out of the harbor.

Walking over to the knife, Emma yanked it from the post and strode back to Leroy. Twirling the knife handle in her fingers, she spun it quickly back into his belt. Leaning down until they stood nose-to-nose, she asked, “Got any more reasons?”

Leroy raised an eyebrow and grunted. “Great, now we have two of them flying all over the ship,” he said gruffly and stalked off.

Emma turned to see Killian, leaning against the rail with an amused expression dancing across his handsome face. Before she could return the smile, her eyes grew at the sight of a meaty hand slapping against the rail near Killian, who jumped back in surprise.

A dripping, and thoroughly angry, Anton hoisted himself up over the rail and stood on the deck. “A word, milady?” he said in a low tone. Emma gulped and nodded.

~CS~

Killian led Emma and Anton to his cabin. _Not quite the way I imagined Emma entering my cabin_ , he thought with a sigh as his mind drifted to a much more pleasant image of Emma in his arms.

Even Killian had been slightly surprised by his daring flight moments ago, but one look at Emma being manhandled by some stranger, and Killian moved before his brain could process his intentions. Walking up the gangplank he had only meant to find a way to lure Anton off the ship, as the lady wished. “Why my old friend! How do I have the pleasure of you upon my ship?” he had called to Anton as he boarded the gangplank, though by his steady expression, the knight was having none of it.

“The map, Hook,” Anton said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Killian knew he could play the innocent and delay for a bit, but something told him Anton was in no mood for games. He raised both hands. “Yes, I have it, but I need it, my friend. To help a lady in distress.”

Anton raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and sighed. “I have no time to waste on you, Hook. I need to leave tomorrow with that map in hand.” He closed the distance between himself and Killian. “The map. Now.”

Sliding back a step. Killian kept a smile locked on his face. That map meant more to him now than a simple treasure. It meant time with the enchanting Emma. Despite her proclivity with a knife in the dungeon cell, Killian felt sure he could break down the walls with which she held him at bay. But if he surrendered the map to Anton, she would have no use for him. And he wasn’t ready to let her go, not yet.

“What about a deal, mate?” Killian offered. “I go and get whatever you need, help a young lady in desperate need to get to the islands, and then bring back whatever you desire, all for a handsome reward.”

While Killian realized there was a very real chance Anton would simply grab him by the throat, turn him upside down and shake him like a rag doll to get the map, instead the hulking man simply asked, “What young lady?”

Before Killian could respond, a voice carried across the bow of the ship. “ _You’re not getting on that bloody thing!_ ” Killian looked down to see Emma pulling away from a scrawny, close-shaven man, who was unrelenting in his grasp.

A dark rage seized Killian as he watched him yank her away from the Jolly Roger. Without thinking, he drew his saber, grabbed a nearby rope hooked to the main mast, and sliced it clean through. Dropping the sword and running toward a surprised Anton, he used the towering man as a ramp and launched himself in an arch, sweeping toward the struggling Emma.

For a fleeting moment as he swooped toward her, Killian wished he would have ditched his sharp hook, but a solid sense of relief flooded him at the feel of his arm connecting with Emma. That sensation combined with the satisfying thud as he delivered a kick to the unsuspecting mauler of the beautiful blonde in his arms.

Arching back toward the ship, Killian suddenly realized a landing might be just what he needed to rid himself of his second problem. Angling down hard, he carried Emma and sailed into the shocked visage of Anton. And at the moment of impact, all Killian could think was, _I knew this woman was going to be the end of me_.

Now that thought might actually be true, as he pushed open the door to his cabin with a surly, dripping knight in his stead.

Emma followed, looking so much more contrite than she had when she snatched Leroy’s own knife from him to shove his insults down his throat. When she had pulled the sail’s rope into a snug knot, Killian had felt his insides mirror the twisting sensation, and the certainty hit him again. _She belongs here, with me._

A slosh of water pulled Killian from his thoughts. Pushing back his long, sopping hair, Anton shook his dripping hands. For a silent moment, his intense gaze surveyed Killian and then Emma. Appearing to weigh his options, he sighed. “Let’s have a look at the map,” he said. “We’ve a long way to go.”


	4. What Does He Mean to You, Emma?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darling readers,  
> I need your input. Are the chapters getting too long? I'm never sure if a long chapter turns off readers. I do adore Captain Swan so, but perhaps my love is a bit tooooo strong. This is another one that carries several scenes. Happy to split them up, if that works better. Your thoughts?

~CS~

Emma closed her eyes and let the night air rush across her skin, while a gentle sea spray dappled her face. Sounds of the crew wrapping up their work after the first evening of travel surrounded her.

“Is the tour boring you, love?” Killian asked beside her. Opening her eyes slowly, Emma took in the sight of him looking sinfully beautiful standing in the moonlight. For the past hour, he had shown Emma the Jolly Roger, and his obvious, almost childlike delight in the ship caused her to smile more than once as he boasted about his beloved vessel from tip to tales. Now, as if her opinion was the only one that mattered, he stood before her with an expression of uncertainty betrayed by the flicker of a few torches on the deck.

Emma shook her head. “No, Killian, she is magnificent,” Emma said in earnest, earning her a dazzling smile that her stole her breath for a beat. Emma made herself turn back to the darkened sea. “It’s just been a rather trying day.”

“To say the least,” Killian added, and followed her gaze off the railing.

Moments after plotting a course to the Deravan Islands, a flurry of doves descended on the ship from MistHaven. Through Anton received one from the king, the rest were reserved for Emma—all from her loved ones in varying stages of distress. Her father’s consisted of commands to TURN THAT SHIP AROUND THIS INSTANT and return home. Snow entreated her with a mother’s greatest weapon—guilt—to wait for Will’s ship arriving the next day, so she would not have to pace the floor at night with worry over both her children.

Emma sighed, realizing Will wasted no time ratting her out to her parents, though she hardly blamed him. Seeing her soar onto an unknown ship and sail away could not have made much sense, especially after being whacked with the boot of a flying pirate. His note was much more succinct. _What the bloody hell, Em? You better be okay, because I am killing you once you get home._ She laughed quietly, and for the first time wondered what August would think when she did see him. Emma cringed, realizing his reaction would probably be similar to his friend’s.

Only Belle’s note didn’t chastise, command, or beg. It simply said, _Be safe. I worry for you._ Emma sighed, and crafted a message to her friend as carefully as she had to the others, stressing that she was fine and in control. Though a single thought of the rakish captain left the last part of her note in doubt. While Killian and Anton had poured over the map unfurled across a table in his cabin, Killian spent a significant amount of time sneaking glances at Emma that were clearly aimed to make her blush. She noted in slight disgust that a couple of them succeeded.

All the while, Killian gently prodded Anton for answers about the “cargo.” How much room should he clear in the hold? Should he make room for barrels or crates? How many men would be needed to carry the contents? _Just planning ahead, mate,_ he would say to Anton’s silent stares.

Personally, Emma hoped every room was crammed with survivors from the wreck. When the fear of finding no one swamped her, Emma had placed her hands on the table to steady herself. Killian’s suggestive smirks ceased after that, and she thought she caught a look of concern flash in his eyes.

Placing Belle’s response with the others, Emma had looked around the small cabin. Sharing the room with Anton would be a tight fit, but he insisted it was for her safety. He had introduced her as his “niece” to some of the crew, who welcomed him back, saying it would be good to sail with “Tiny” again. _There was a story that needed a few details,_ she thought. It was then a knock came on her door, and Killian had lured her into a tour of the ship.

Standing now on the deck with him under a silver moon, Emma felt Killian was owed the truth. As much bluster and sexy bravado as he threw at her during the tour, Killian showed her he knew every inch of this ship, and each one of his men. Emma recognized the look of men who trusted their leader, and Killian Jones had their trust. She was beginning to believe that if Killian was risking his men and his ship for them, he had a right to know what he was getting into.

“Killian,” she began.

He moved a step closer to her. “Did you stop to admire me by moonlight, love?” he raised an eyebrow and offered her a slight smirk.

Emma sighed. “Can’t you get through a conversation without flirting?”

Killian placed a hand on his chin and gave her a contemplative look. “Hmmmmm…probably not.”

She laughed, but then bit her lip, trying to piece together how to explain their quest. Killian cleared his throat and asked, “So, get all those doves answered?” She nodded, as he added, “It’s a little odd to have access to so many doves. Makes you think you might be someone of rather great importance, aye?” he gave her a sly smile.

 _And there it was._ When Emma had mentioned the possibility of telling Killian the truth to Anton, the knight had dismissed the idea. “He’s a pirate, Emma. A charming pirate, to be sure, but a pirate nonetheless,” he said. “We cannot predict what he will do if he knows who you are.” Emma nodded and had agreed to remain silent. The truth was, she _didn’t_ know Killian, not in any real sense. Not enough to risk August’s life.

“They work in the palace,” she mumbled, not meeting Killian’s eyes.

Looking back at the rolling sea, he said, “Ah, that explains it. Is your father the royal falconer?”

Emma shook her head. “They…um…the royal family is not big on hunting,” she said, thinking of how her mother forbid hunting for sport. She looked at the cage that held the last cooing dove that traveled to her. Her mother cared for the animals around the castle as much as she cared for the people. Emma smiled at the thought of her mother’s last note. _Come home soon. Send this dove when you find him. Love you._ It might as well have said _I believe in you, Emma._

Killian raised his eyebrows. “Ah, yes, I have heard the royalty in MistHaven is better than most when it comes to the lives of their people. Even been known to lead their troops into battle. And that is saying something.”

Standing back a step, Emma surveyed him. “You sound as if you speak from experience,” she said.

Killian smiled slowly, and Emma braced herself for some kind of explanation of his _experience_ , but instead, he paused and pushed his tongue to his top lip. After a moment, he gave a soft sigh. “My brother and I served in the royal navy for a kingdom not far from here," he said.

"The royal navy?" Emma raised an eyebrow in approval. "Which would have made you...?,"

"Lieutenant Jones, at your service, milady,” he said, sweeping into a deep bow. 

Rising, he closed the gap between them. “Would you have run away with a man in uniform?" he asked in a low voice, and Emma laughed. 

"I imagine your captain would have frowned on that," she said.

Killian offered her a warm smile, "Aye, that he would." His smile faded as a shadow passed across his features. "My captain was my brother," he said softly. Emma didn't respond, sensing he had more to say. "We served a king who never set foot on a ship, let alone the battlefield," he explained, failing to hide the bitterness that leached into his voice. He sighed and pushed his hand into his already ruffled hair. Leaning against the railing, he added, “I lost my brother in a battle that had no meaning, and gained nothing. So, yes Emma, I speak from experience.”

Emma remained quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry, Killian,” she said quietly, and placed her hand on his.

Killian looked at her hand and slowly smiled. Then he leaned in to gaze directly into Emma’s eyes. “It is in the past, dear Emma. And besides,” he said, taking her hand in his, “it seems I managed have an entire exchange without flirting.” He brushed his lips gently across her knuckles.

Her breath catching in her throat, Emma tried to swallow. “That wasn't so bad, was it?” she asked, aiming for nonchalance, and suspecting she failed miserably.

“It was _excruciating,_ ” he said, and she laughed.

Nearby the thrum of metal onto the deck startled Emma, and she turned to see Anton staring pointedly at the pair of them. He had offered to help the crew prepare for the most perilous part of their journey through a stretch plagued by marauders. The cannonballs he stacked seemed to have gotten loose from their tightly packed pyramid and crashed onto the deck, sending sailors racing after them. Emma looked down, and noticed Killian was still holding her hand. She quickly pulled away from his grasp.

The pirate sighed. “It seems we’ve found the one thing that intimidates you, Emma,” he said, eyeing the giant, scowling man.

Emma blanched. “I’m not afraid of Anton, I trust him,” she said simply.

Killian leaned in again. “And what did he do to earn your trust, Emma? Perhaps I might like to do the same.”

She shrugged. “He saved my life when I was 10. He's a good man, Killian.”

Clearly, this was not the answer Killian expected. He studied Emma for a moment, then said, “This is a story for us to share over dinner,” he said, extending his arm to Emma.

She smiled and took it. “Then I’ll let him tell it.”

Killian cringed. “Who says he is invited?” he began to lead Emma toward the stairs. “The chef is Leroy’s brother. He’s a bit bashful, but makes an amazing soufflé from goat’s milk.”

Another crash of metal preceded the stomping of large feet toward Emma and Killian. “Do you really think he’ll let me dine with you, alone?” she asked, glancing at the oncoming Anton.

Not turning around, Killian sighed. “Point well taken, love.”

~CS~

Several things about dinner with Killian Jones surprised Emma. It wasn’t that he was right—the bashful man concocted a delectable meal. It wasn’t that Anton refused the captain’s repeated requests to relive his heroics of saving the 10-year-old Emma. _An adorable 10, I’m sure,_ Killian guessed, winking at Emma. She simply rolled her eyes and drank another sip of the delicious wine that accompanied their meal.

No, what surprised Emma was how much she laughed during the evening. Yes, she knew Killian could be charming and flirtatious, but Emma smiled at the thought that he was actually a wonderful host. As attentive as he was charismatic, Emma doubted her wine glass was ever empty, or the conversation ever lulled. _My mother would love him,_ she thought once, before bringing herself soundly back to reality. _My mother would love the pirate with whom I jumped on a ship, disobeyed her, and raced toward dangers unknown? Not so much._

She laughed again as he finished up a story about trying to provide meals for the crew after their cook jumped ship. “So it wasn’t the salted pork omelet, or pickled salted pork that endangered my life. No, it was the salted pork beer that did me in,” Killian placed his hand to his heart. “I swear, the closest I ever came to facing a mutiny was when the crew threatened to dump me and the salted pork over the side, if I didn’t go and pull into the nearest harbor, or somehow get back our cook who left to chase a man named Billy Bones,” said Killian.

As soon as Emma set her wine glass down on the table, Killian was reaching for the bottle. She raised an eyebrow. “Captain, if you are trying to get me drunk, you’ll need something stronger than wine. I’ve had it with dinner since I was 13 years old.”

Killian tipped the bottle upright, then used the end to motion to hunched-over Anton, who was snoring lightly in his chair. “Looks as though someone had his fill,” he said with a knowing smile.

Emma’s brows scrunched in concern. “I hope he’s all right. I’ve never seen him sleep that soundly before…or sleep at all, now that I think of it.” Emma rose and grabbed a blanket off of Killian’s nearby bed. She draped it over Anton’s shoulder.

“He’s fine, love,” said Killian, holding out his hand to lead her back to her chair. “As you said, he’s a ‘good’ man, so we should let him rest while he can.”

Emma glanced at the intricately carved clock on the mantle near the table. “It’s getting late. I should get him back to our cabin.” She reached down to give him a gentle shake, but Killian was suddenly at her side.

“Now Emma, this may be the only chance I have to get you alone…so to speak,” he said, glancing down at the slumbering giant. Leading a hesitant Emma back to her chair, Killian walked in front of his and kneeled down in front of her. “So tell me, Emma, what does a man need to do before you see him as ‘a good man?’”

Blanching at the question, Emma shrugged. “It’s not about what he does, it’s about who he is,” she said simply, leaning back in her chair to give her some distance from Killian. Far from feeling threatened by his close proximity, Emma found herself drawn to him, with sensations she perceived as a much greater danger.

Killian ran his finger along the baroque pattern of a china plate on the table. “So, would a good man, say, need to have two hands?” he asked lightly.

Emma rolled her eyes. “No, he would not,” she said, giving him a half-smile that let him know how idiotic the question was. _If this is about ego, I can play along,_ she thought. _Just as long as he keeps his distance._

As if reading her thoughts, and ignoring them, Killian edged his hand closer to hers. “Would a good man have to live in a palace?”

Keeping her focus firmly on his roving hand, Emma answered, “No, he would not.”

Killian nodded, sliding his fingertips a hair’s width from Emma’s. “Would a good man need to command men or fleets?”

The nearness of Killian stole Emma’s voice. She swallowed and shook her head. With her focus on his hand, she didn’t notice him drawing closer to her until she could feel his breath on her skin. She gasped in surprise as he whispered, “Would a man who would sacrifice anything for you be a good man, Emma?”

“I…”Emma struggled to catch her breath as she locked with his searing, blue gaze. He remained, inches from her, for a heartbeat before Emma grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him to her. Wanting to forget who she was, just for an instant, Emma allowed her desire for him to consume her as she crushed her lips to his. For a second, Killian did not respond. But when Emma slipped her hands to his chest, a dam broke loose in him, and Killian wrapped his arms around her, meeting her with an urgent need. His hand moved into her hair as he teased her bottom lip with his teeth, urging her mouth open. When his tongue slipped gently in to capture hers, Emma was sure she whimpered, but responded, drinking in everything he gave her.

“Gods, Emma,” he whispered against her mouth, and she leaned toward him for more.

It was then Anton chose to fall from his perch in the chair, his head landing soundly against his arm on the table. Emma jumped. Blushing furiously, she scooted back as far as she could in the chair. “Killian, I should go,” she mumbled, with the fleeting question of whether a person could die from embarrassment on her mind.

Killian stared at her for a moment, a curious look on his face. Then he sighed and pulled away. Emma rose, and made her unsteady way to the door. She opened the cabin door, but Killian placed his hook against the wood frame. “So, Emma, what will it take to show you I am a good man you can trust?” he asked.

Emma could not bring herself to meet his gaze. “I don’t know, Killian,” she whispered.

Keeping his eyes upon her, he asked. “Is the man you are hoping to find from that wreckage a good man, Emma?”

Her eyes snapped to his, but there was no flash of teasing there. He simply stared at her, awaiting her answers. Anger bubbled inside Emma. “Is that was this was about? You wanting me to tell you about the cargo?”

“No, love,” he said quietly. “You’re something of an open book, Emma. When we were speaking of the wreck, you weren’t thinking of gold or jewels. It was clear you lost someone out there.” Killian reached up and scratched behind his ear. “I just want to know, is he a good man? What does he mean to you, Emma?” His eyes met hers, and his stark need for an answer drove her breath from her once again.

Looking down, Emma nodded. She could end this now, though her body was screaming at her to let it continue. Emma closed her eyes. “Yes, Killian. He is a good man. He is the prince of MistHaven, and I love him,” she said, giving herself comfort that not one word was a lie.

Killian’s mouth opened in shock, but before he could speak, Emma pulled open the door and walked through. “Good night, Killian,” she said, and closed the door quietly behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this chapter is simply a kiss, I'm debating whether to take the story into M territory in the future. What are your thoughts? Keep it light and fluffy, or take a turn to the M-side? More swashbuckling and sweetness coming up next either way.


	5. Ready at the Swords!

~CS~

_A mistress. The bloody mistress of a bloody prince_. The thought drifted through Killian’s head on an endless loop. He slammed down the glass of rum so hard the plates covered with dinner leftovers rattled. A snoring Anton snorted lightly, but continued his slumber. 

Killian almost laughed as he poured himself another healthy dose into his glass. He’d wasted a huge dose of the sleeping potion that darling girl, Tink, had given him on the giant—just to have a few minutes alone with Emma. He nearly cringed to think how the knight would react to knowing he was drugged, but Killian shrugged it off. In the end, he’d probably have a good laugh at what a fool Killian had made of himself all for a woman who belonged to another.

“You could have given me a heads up, mate,” Killian sneered at the sleeping form across the table. But, to be honest, he couldn’t blame Anton. How do you trust a pirate with the knowledge that he is acquiring a prince from a ship wreckage? And how do you add that his mistress is on board? Emma had been insistent that Anton would stop them, and now he knew why. _No wonder the man was so protective of her_ , he thought. “Tough to have the added burden of protecting the prince’s valuables, eh, little knight?” he sneered at Anton. 

And how valuable Emma was…at least to him. 

Killian rubbed his hand against his face. How delighted he had been to show her his ship—his home—and be rewarded with only her smile. She had called the Jolly Roger “magnificent,” and Killian had somehow let himself believe she was talking about him as well. _Idiot_ , he chastised himself. There she was, just biding her time with him, until she could get back to her precious prince.

 _But that kiss…._ Killian allowed himself to linger on the memory of her lips, warm and tempting. The scent of lavender drifting in her hair as she yanked him closer. Her passionate embrace sweetly contrasting with the tentative venturing of her tongue to his. _That kiss._

Killian shook his head to clear his runaway thoughts. It didn’t matter how she responded to him. The whole time, _the WHOLE time_ , she belonged to someone else. How could he not see it? A woman living in the palace who cannot dance. A woman who knows her way around a knife and acts as though she was raised on a ship. Who had taken wine with dinner since she was 13? _That idiot prince probably plucked her off the ship where she grew up and claimed her for his own_ , he thought. The sudden image of Emma in another man’s arms caused Killian to squeeze the glass so tightly, he was surprised it didn’t shatter in his grip. _What kind of woman kisses a man with that much passion when she belongs to someone else?_

Setting down his now empty glass, Killian reached for the quickly draining bottle, then froze. _Maybe that was the kiss of a woman who belonged to another, but that had not been the kiss of a woman whose **heart** belonged to another man._

_I love him_ , she told Killian, and—at the time—her words seem to ring true. _But that kiss_ …. Killian sent the glass careening across the cabin, and watched it shatter against the thick, wooden walls. 

Maybe the lady Emma had no idea what she wanted, but Killian vowed not to fight for a woman who could not decide between him and a ruddy prince. _Go ahead_ , his subconscious derided him. _Vow off Emma. Make a vow not to touch that gloriously soft skin, to avoid those hands that are somehow delicate and strong at once, to turn away from those sea-green eyes that plunder your soul._

Killian grabbed the bottle, brought it to his lips and pulled out the last of the run. “Bloody woman,” he muttered. _The bloody mistress of a bloody prince _.__

~CS~

Killian woke to the sensation of flying out of his chair. He squeezed his eyes against the early morning light, and quickly surmised he was being dangled in the air above the table where he had passed out. 

“Is there a particular reason you decided to drug me last night, pirate?” Anton’s voice remained low and steady, for which Killian’s raging head thanked him, but there was no missing the menacing tone his words. 

“Don’t know what you mean, old friend,” Killian rasped with morning roughness. He worked to try and blink his bloodshot eyes awake. 

Anton thrust the empty mug toward Killian as the other hand still held him aloft. “I believe the drug is call ‘fairy dust,’” he said evenly. “Leaves a blue stain.” 

Killian held up a finger. “Ah yes, I recall,” he said, offering Anton a sheepish smile. “Tried to get clues to the treasure we were picking up, but, alas, I used too much on you, and the very undrugged Lady Emma kept mum.” He shrugged as if to say _No harm, no foul_.

Anton sighed in disgust and dropped Killian, who crumpled to a heap on the floor. “I take it the lady went back to the cabin last night?” 

Nodding in reply from his spot on the floor, Killian quietly chastised himself for not making sure Emma made it to her door. Though something told him he would have heard by now if one of his crew lost a hand trying to harass her. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Anton remained silent for a moment. Then he leveled a gaze at Killian. “I will remember this, pirate, though I need us to finish this mission. Do you think you can behave yourself and do that?” 

“You have my word,” Killian said, and reached up to take the hand Anton offered him. He sucked in his breath as the giant man applied pressure to his grip. 

“Make sure you heed that word, Jones. You already have this to answer for,” Anton said slowly. Releasing the pirate, he turned toward the door. Pausing, he turned back. “And one more thing, Hook….”

Anton’s last thought was interrupted by the shouts of several men on deck. “Ship ahoy!” and “Marauders!”

“Bloody hell,” muttered Killian, racing to the door and grabbing his sword. “You can threaten me later, right now I need you to fight.” Without a word, Anton followed him. 

“All hands on deck, Mr. Smee!” Killian called as he raced up the stairs. The command quickly echoed throughout the ship as his men relayed the call. Killian ascended to the quarter deck and caught sight of the oncoming vessel. 

“Do you think it’s one of Queen Cora’s hires, sir?” asked Smee, handing the captain his spyglass. 

Killian peered into the slender, brass tube. The other end of the glass revealed the crew of the oncoming ship scurrying like rats. As the ship quickly gained on the Jolly Roger, he viewed the tattered flag hanging from the main mast that bore three jagged, red stripes—the sign of hired privateers and marauders. The glint of morning sunlight reflecting on cannons rolling toward the port side and momentarily blinded him. 

“Dammit,” he muttered. Though he knew these waters could be dangerous, Killian and Anton had chosen them as the fastest way to the islands. Any damage the approaching ship would do could only slow them down. And that was _if_ they only wanted to loot the ship. Unlike pirate ships that generally allowed crews and passengers to leave poorer, but unharmed, one never knew what the masters of marauders and privateers condoned. “The chase is making full sail at us, Mr. Smee. Do let’s respond in kind,” Killian said calmly. “Be so kind as to drop the mizzen sails.” Smee shouted the order to unfurl the third set of sails. 

“She’s making a mighty run, sir. Think we can lose her?” Smee said, looking up as the first of the sails billowed from the rigging. 

“Never doubt the Jolly Roger, Mr. Smee, it’s like calling a man’s mistress ugly,” he said, and turned to the two men manning the wheel. “Nibs, Curly, do you have a handle on this?”

“Aye, captain!” They shouted, and Kilian nodded. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Killian caught a flash of flowing blonde hair. He whipped around to see Emma giving Leroy and some of his other men a hand at lowering the sails. “Emma!” he shouted across the deck. “Get below deck! That’s an order!” She shot him a look that told him exactly what he could do with his “order” and continued to help tie down the sail. Killian felt the jerk of the ship as the strong sea winds filled the second sailcloth. He watched Emma move to the men working on the final sail.

“Stubborn woman,” he muttered and dashed down the steps to the main deck. Catching up with her, he yanked her arm and dragged her to the ship railing. “What in the hell do you think you are doing? I ordered you to get below. And I expect that order to be followed.”

Emma threw her arm free of his. “You called for all hands on deck, Killian. And if you think I’m going to….”

“That’s _captain_ , lass,” he hissed, grabbing her arm again and pulling her toward the steps to below decks.

“Captain!” Mr. Smee’s voice carried to the deck below. “It’s too late, sir! They’re on top of us!”

Killian threw out a few choice words and dropped Emma’s arm. He leaned in until they were practically nose-to-nose. “Get below, Emma,” he said in a dark voice that left no room for argument. Seeing the sparks of defiance in her eyes, he added, “I will not be able to focus on the task at hand if I have to worry about your safety, savvy?” Emma stared at him for a moment, seemingly shocked by his confession. Then she simply nodded, and Killian raced back to the steps toward the quarter deck. 

The marauder’s ship had managed to catch up to the Jolly Roger, and would soon be racing alongside her. It was a light shift, only weighed down by cannons, he guessed. That also meant it probably had a smaller crew and depended on the initial firepower. Killian quickly weighed his options. “Load the cannons! Ready the ladders! First wave fighters, ready at the swords!” he called. 

Men dashed to prepare for battle. The fact that Killian had already called for the ladders used to bridge the gap between two ships let the men know they would be taking the offensive. He leaned to Smee. “Keep her going at a brisk pace, will you Mr. Smee?” His first mate’s eyes widened, suspecting his captain’s intentions. Killian waggled his eyebrows. “If they want to play a little game of catch-the-pirate, let’s see them do it at full sail.”

The roar of the first cannon shot thundered from the marauders. The cannonball missed the ship by a hair’s breath. Killian casually walked down the steps to the main deck with Smee scurrying beside him. “Call the lads, Smee,” he said with a smirk on his face. 

Smee cupped his hand to his mouth. “Ladder bearers, first wave, to the captain!” Men dashed to gather around Killian.

“All right boys, I’ll need you to drop two ladders, but then step away nicely, would you?” Killian said lightly. 

A rather plump pirate with a penchant for pudding pie named Georgie spoke up. “Sir, you _want_ us to let them board us?” he asked. 

A second cannon shot roared, this one crashing into the lantern on the stern of the ship. Killian pursed his lip in frustration. _You’ll pay for that one,_ vowed silently. He looked at Georgie and smiled. “Not so much _board_ as lure toward us. Once they are on the ladders, and I’m on the other ship, do me favor and toss the buggers into the drink.” The men smiled and nodded. "Center ladder crew, take my lead," he said. "I'm going to welcome the new neighbors." 

Smee furrowed his brow. “Captain, what will you do on the other ship? And how will you get back?” he asked. 

“Leave all that to me, dear man,” Killian said as he smacked Smee soundly on the back. “To your posts, men,” he shouted. It was then he saw Anton standing close by. Marching to the behemoth man, he cocked his finger to bring the giant to his eye level. “Do me a favor, load all the cannons with chain shot, and aim directly for their main mast.” 

Anton nodded gravely. “That will be a tough shot for them to make at full sail, _captain_ ," he said, letting Killian know he had overheard his exchange with Emma. 

“Then I’ll slow her a down a bit for you,” Killian said, smiling and jogging off to the rail where the center ladder waited to descend. 

From his vantage point on the deck, Killian could see the crew of the marauders scrambling, unsure which tack he would take. Though the ship continued to barrel on with the full sea wind, he also stood ready to attack, even though it was the other ship trying desperately to pull along her broadside. Another cannon shot missed the body of the ship, but ripped clean through the lanteen sail in the rear. Killian gritted his teeth.

As soon as the ship careened alongside the Jolly Roger, Killian gave the signal, and the ladders began to descend. Three men held the ladder edge closest to him, and Killian jumped up and climbed to the end. As the other ladders began to lower, his men held him aloft. Killian took a deep breath and leapt, grabbing onto the rigging of the main mast yard, and swinging himself up to the mast. As he climbed up the ropes, Killian thought he heard someone yell, “NO!” and he could swear it was Anton.

Hauling himself higher, Killian surprised the marauder in the crow’s nest, latching onto his vest with his hook and launching him over the side. Another roar of cannonfire rocked the enemy ship, and this time Killian heard the distinct crack of wood. He spun round to see the long jib stretching out at the front of the ship splinter, taking down two of the smaller forward sails.

“Enough of this,” he muttered and scaled up to the top of the main sail. Sinking his hook into the sail, he jumped. Flying down to the next level, Killian heard the satisfying rip that accompanied his metal hook tearing into the linen sail. He landed gently on top of the massive main sail. Latching on, he jumped again, ripping it in two as he cascaded down. He landed on a beam just above the main deck and drew his sword. He was about to swing at the marauders scrambling toward him, when a small crack sounded nearby. The bullet pinged past Killian’s nose and dug into the mast behind him. “Time to go,” he said, grabbing onto a rope and slicing the end. 

Before he could jump in a glorious (and very piratic) getaway, he spotted Anton, lumbering _toward_ the enemy ship. He could swear the giant was going to use one of the ladders to vault himself into a sea of marauders on the other side of the widening gap of water. Killian followed Anton’s direction to see a flash of steel and the telltale whip of blonde hair. “Bloody hell,” he cursed, and redirected himself to swing toward Emma, who was at present fighting on her own on the enemy deck. 

Jumping from his perch, Killian swept toward Emma. Even in the blur of movement, he saw she was fending off two men rather handily with just her sword. As he connected with her, Killian heard her surprised grunt. “We really must stop meeting like this,” he said, and watched as Emma tossed something onto the deck. 

The two of them tumbled onto the deck of the Jolly Roger. Killian stood up and brushed off his greatcoat. Turning he saw all of his men cowering on the deck. “Get down!” Emma yelled, and dove for Killian, landing on top of him.

Killian opened his mouth to make a comment sure to earn him another look, when the ship beside them exploded in an eruption of wood, sail, and fire. His men jumped up to extinguish the pieces of burning wood cascading toward them. “Full ahead!” Killian heard Smee yell. 

Emma remained where she was, staring into Killian’s eyes. For a moment, neither of them moved. He lifted a hand and gently brushed her wayward hair from her cheek. “Care to explain how the ship blew up, Emma?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Looking down for a moment, she said simply, “I have a problem following orders.” 

It was Leroy who yanked Emma off Killian, much to his dismay. “That was awesome!” Leroy yelled. He turned to Killian and offered him an arm. “You should have seen her, Cap. She saw you balance on the ladder, then jumped on the far one, raced across and totally ravaged their gun powder stash. She slashed it all over the deck.” Leroy threw his arms in the air. “Then _BOOM_! All that’s left is splinters.” 

Killian brushed off his coat once again. “Thank you, Leroy,” he said, concentrating on his cloak to help him suppress the anger that bubbled in his chest. He looked up at the crew, and raised his arms. “A brilliant job to all involved,” he yelled. “Rum rations for all tonight!” The crew cheered and moved away, slapping each other’s backs in approval. 

Turning to Emma and intent on unleashing a tirade of barely suppressed anger, he was met by the color draining from her face. Killian sucked in his breath. “Emma, are you all right?” he asked. She swooned and Killian stepped forward to sweep her into his arms. Looking down, he spotted a string of blood running from her arm. “Anton!” he called, though the man was already at his side. “My quarters, now!” he commanded, and the crew parted for them in an instant. 

~CS~

Anton finished wrapping the bandage over the small stitches on Emma’s arm. It was not a dangerous wound, but seeing her in pain made Kilian’s heart clench. Several of the crew had come to ask about her over the last hour, but she still slept soundly. Against Anton’s growl, he had given her some of the fairy dust with rum. 

Killian had watched in awe as Anton’s thick fingers worked magic with the thin thread. When the towering man began to clean up the medical supplies, Killian scratched his finger behind his ear. “You’ll have to show me how to do that someday, mate,” he said quietly. 

Anton nodded solemnly. “It’s probably a necessity if you are going to be around the lady,” he said. Killian smiled and looked at Emma, sleeping fitfully on his bed. She had scared the hell out of him when she fainted on deck, and watching her bleed made Killian want to hold her tight, turn about, and blow up that damn ship again, all at the same time. 

“She must be a handful for the prince,” he said smirking.

Anton’s hand stilled. “She told you, I take it?” he asked. 

Killian looked at Anton. “Aye. You know, you could have told me as well,” he said quietly, as Anton cleared away his supplies. With the seat next to her free, Killian took the opportunity to sit down and brush his hand against her cheek.

“I tell you only what you need to know, and for good reason, Hook,” Anton said, placing the supplies back into his vast duffel bag. 

Killian couldn’t look at the man. “So I didn’t need to know that we were heading to find a prince who could be hunted by Cora’s men?” he asked evenly. “Fine, I understand that. But why let her get involved?”

Anton leveled a gaze at him. “I don’t recall that I was the one who hoisted her on board like she was a rag doll,” he said quietly, and finished packing away his medical kit. 

Jumping up, Killian pointed to Emma. “Do you know what would have happened to her if they had captured her? Do you?” his voice rose another level and Emma stirred. Killian continued to glare at the man, though they both knew it wasn’t Anton’s fault. The fear—the stark fear—Killian that seized when he saw her on that enemy deck paled in comparison to watching her fall, wounded, into his arms. Carrying her into his cabin and watching helplessly as Anton examined her wound simply ground up the anger and anguish inside him, so much so that he would pick a fight with a giant, just to release it. 

“I am not your enemy,” Anton said, unmoving. 

With a sigh of surrender, Killian eased back down in the chair next to Emma. “I know it,” he whispered, and placed his hand on hers. 

Anton leaned against the large table. “It doesn’t take long, does it?” he asked.

Killian made slow circles on Emma’s hand in a soothing motion. “What doesn’t?”

“For her to find a way into your heart,” Anton answered.

His eyes snapped to Anton, “You?” Killian choked out the question, but the giant shook his head in disgust. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m twice her age,” he said in a low growl. Then Anton looked toward Emma. “Do you know how I met her?”

“She said you saved her life,” Killian said, reliving the stab of jealousy he felt when she told him she trusted Anton. 

Anton nodded. “She wandered too far from the main path, and was captured by giants,” he said quietly. “I was there, looking for…answers,” he muttered. Killian suspected he was trying to confirm what everyone else suspected—that Anton came from giant’s blood. The pirate said nothing, and the man continued. 

A small smile ghosted Anton’s lips. “She was as defiant as she was petrified.” Killian laughed softly at the thought of a 10-year-old Emma, feisty even in fear. “After she broke the nose of one of her captors, they decided to cook her in a grand feast. So, I spirited her away that night, and was banned from ever returning.”

Killian knew then that Anton had found his family, but gave them up, gave up understanding his past, for the sake of saving Emma. “She’s right. You’re a good man, Anton,” Killian said, and turned back to Emma, who curled her hand around his in her sleep. He felt the weight of Anton’s hand lightly pat his shoulder. 

“So are you, Killian,” said Anton. 

Raising an eyebrow, Killian looked over his shoulder at Anton. “Killian? You’ve never called me that before,” he said, a smile slowly dancing on his lips. “Does this mean I’ve grown on you, old friend?”

Anton sighed. “And the moment is over,” he muttered. Moving away from the table, he added, “It means I trust you to watch her as she sleeps.” Walking slowly to the door, he turned back to Killian. “By the way, before we were so rudely interrupted by Cora’s hired thugs, I was going to tell you that if you break her heart, I will break you in two.” And without another word, he ducked low to slip out the door. 

Killian stared at the door for a beat, then looked down at the sleeping Emma. “Yep, I am definitely growing on him,” he said. Leaning back, Killian pulled off his boots, and gingerly climbed over Emma’s sleeping form. Curling his arm around her, she sighed and nuzzled into his hand as he ran his fingers through her soft hair. Leaning to whisper in her ear, he asked, “And who will watch my heart, Emma? Since I’ve already given it to you?” 

Holding her close, he drifted into sleep.


	6. The Name on Her Lips

~CS~

_Running. Running through the woods. The crack of limbs and branches echoing. Thundering footsteps closing in from behind. Faster…must run faster…Stumbling…hands scrape against the rough roots of a tree. **Get up, Emma.** They are closer. Closer with every step. The giants. The giants are right behind._

From nowhere, Emma felt a hand brush her cheek. She stopped and turned, but no one was there. She looked down to see her small shoes, covered in mud. The lace cuffs of her dress torn.

 _This is a dream,_ she thought. _The old dream._ Emma stopped running, and the lumbering footsteps behind her faded. _I am not 10 years old._ Glancing down again, she saw her tall black boots. Emma reached to her side, and felt the knife her father had given her. 

From far away, a voice drifted to her. “Do you know what would have happened to her if they had captured her? Do you?”

_Killian. Killian is here._

Immediately, she knew it was his hand that brushed her cheek, pulling her back from the depths of the haunting nightmare. Emma tried to call out for Killian, but found her voice had no sound. She turned to run to him, but realized she had no idea which direction to go. A new panic gripped her, greater than when she watched him soar onto the enemy ship on his own. Her breath tightened into shallow gulps. She clamped her eyes shut and willed him to be there. _Killian,_ she thought. 

A gentle hand slipped into hers. Opening her eyes, Emma drank in the sight of Killian standing next to her, dark hair askew and smirk gracing his soft lips. She squeezed his hand with all her might as the fear drained from her. _Killian _.__

Pulling her into a soft embrace, she felt his breath caress her ear. “And who will watch my heart, Emma? Since I’ve already given it to you?” She closed her eyes. _Just a dream_ , she told herself, and sank into his arms.

~CS~

Morning light crept into the cabin. Emma blinked against the intrusion into her dreams. She lay on her stomach, warm and safe under a down quilt. Grasping for a few more moments of sleep, she nuzzled away from the sunlight and came up against something immovable. Turning, she saw the sleeping form of Captain Killian Jones.

 _Still dreaming,_ thought Emma, and lifted her hand to brush a lock of dark hair from his face. She smiled at the way sleep softened his features, still startling handsome in the rising sunlight. Her finger traced a small scar on his cheek, and his nose wriggled slightly at her touch. Emma held back a laugh and edged closer to him. Killian’s arm, still draped around her, instinctively pulled her closer.

 _Such a perfect dream, to wake up next to him._ “Killian,” she whispered, and brushed her lips gently to his. Emma gasped at the jolt of heat the small contact sent through her. His eyes fluttered open, and he graced Emma with a slow and irresistibly sexy smile. “Killian,” she whispered again as he leaned toward her. 

When his lips caressed hers, the heat blossomed. Before he could pull away and the dream evaporate, Emma slid her hand into his hair and guided his lips to her again. His mouth opened languidly over hers and Emma responded eagerly, a purr of pleasure escaping her. Killian laughed softly at her response, and his hand moved slowly up her back to rest on her cheek. Emma moved to turn toward him, and inhaled sharply as her wound scraped against the bed. 

“Careful, love,” he said softly, his stunning, blue eyes filling with concern. “That was quite a hit you took yesterday.”

Emma winced. _Feeling pain in a dream, that’s odd_ , she thought, as she moved her right arm slowly back. Lifting her left hand to Killian’s kiss-swollen lips, she furrowed her eyebrows. “You seem so real,” she said.

Killian smiled and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m very real, Emma,” he said and pulled her closer. “And so are you.”

Emma froze. “Wait, what?” The sudden realization that she was actually alone with Killian… _kissing Killian_ …in a bed, seized her. Emma jumped up and flew from the bed as if it were in flames. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, grabbing the bandage around her arm as the wound painfully protested her sudden movements.

Instead of looking the least bit shocked, Killian lazily propped himself up on his elbow. “I believe we were having a very good morning,” he said, offering her a knowing smile. 

Emma stared at him for a beat. “Did I spend the night here?” The strangled shock in her voice echoed around the cabin. “Did I spend the night _with you_?” Her mind raced to determine what parts of the night were dream, and what parts reality. A blush stole into her cheeks as she remembered pieces of her dream _vividly_. Stamping the memory from her mind, Emma latched onto anger—never mind that it was anger at herself. “What EXACTLY happened here?” 

Killian sighed, and slowly rose from the bed. He took one step toward Emma. “You were injured, love,” he said patiently. “Anton patched you up in here, and here is where you slept. JUST slept,” he added as Emma opened her mouth in question. She quickly clamped it shut. Taking another step toward her, a lazy smile danced on his lips. “Of course, this morning might have been a different story, if you hadn’t raced out of bed so quickly.” He waggled his brows at her. 

Emma narrowed her eyes at him, a retort ready on her lips, when a knock sounded on the cabin door. Her eyes widened. “What will the crew think?” she whispered. 

Killian threw her a wink. “Never worry, fair Emma,” he said, and stepped away from her. Pulling out a chair from the table, he yanked a blanket from the bed, and covered himself with it as he sat down. “Enter!” he yelled. 

The small chef timidly opened the door. Killian groaned and stretched his arms, looking just like a man who woke from spending an uncomfortable night dosing in a chair. “Ah, my good man,” he yawned. “Thank you for breakfast. I’m sure it will be wonderful.”

Emma watched as the man blushed to the tips of his receding hairline. Glancing at her, he stuttered, “Ho…hope you are feeling better, Mi…Miss Emma.” He placed the tray on the table and quickly turned to go. 

Killian smiled at Emma and shrugged as if to say, _See? No problem._ Emma rolled her eyes and shot him a look that responded, _Really? That’s all you’ve got?_

Killian cleared his throat. “Oh, Bash?” The man jumped near the doorway, but turned around. Killian continued, “Do let the crew know that Emma is doing better, and that she slept all through the night.” Adding a slightly dramatic sigh, he added. “The lady is worried about her reputation, so do let them know I was a complete gentleman, will you?”

Emma’s mouth dropped open, and Bash turned an even deeper shade of red. “Uh…I, uh…sir?” he mumbled. 

Killian contemplated the man for a moment. “Tell you what. You tell Leroy and have _him_ tell the crew. All right?”

“Y…yes, Captain,” Bash said nodding, and dashed out of the cabin. 

As the door closed behind him, Emma gaped at Killian. “Are you kidding me? Now you, me, and the bed are all anyone will be talking about.”

Killian tossed the blanket back onto the rumpled bed. Propping his bootless feet up on the table, he cocked an eyebrow at Emma. “Care to add something to the conversation?” 

With an exasperated huff, Emma flopped down into the chair next to him. “You are impossible,” she said, knocking his feet off the table. Killian only chucked.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” she asked, crossing her arms. Right now her tenuous hold on her anger was the only thing holding the blush on her cheeks at bay. Narrowing her eyes, she added, “If I remember correctly, your ship took some damage yesterday. Shouldn’t you be on deck, overseeing repairs, _captain_?”

Leaning toward the pouting Emma, Killian only smiled. “I am in a good mood because I woke up next to a woman of beauty and substance this morning,” he said, his smile ticking up a notch when she refused to meet his eyes. “And when said woman awoke, the name on her lips was not that of a prince, but a pirate.”

Emma cringed, feeling her staunch battle against the blush fail miserably. Lifting her chin in defiance of her betrayed emotions, she spat, “You must have been mistaken. Why would I want a common thief?”

She stole a look at Killian, whose smile had only grown. Clasping his hand behind his head, he causally contemplated her words. “I’m actually more a smuggler than a thief,” he said. “More skill, less mess with the cannon fire.” Leaning back, he glanced at Emma. “But that is an interesting question. Why, oh Emma, do you want a common pirate?”

Before she could answer, a loud knock rapped the cabin door. Without waiting for an answer, Anton opened the door and ducked into the room. Killian winked at Emma, and grabbed an apple from the tray on the table. She sighed.

“Good morning. I trust I am not interrupting,” said Anton, making it clear from his tone it did not matter if the couple found his presence an interruption. With one step, he was at Emma’s side. “How is your injury, Emma?” he asked, holding out a hand so he could examine her arm. She complied, and Anton bent over and carefully undid the bandage. He nodded at the long stretch of stitches across her upper arm. “Later, we’ll need to clean it, and get you a new wrapping, but I am satisfied it will heal.” 

He secured the bandage. Anton then reached for a chair, flipped it around and eased into it. “I take it you are well rested?” he asked. At her nod, he lowered his voice. “Any disturbing dreams?”

Emma shot a glance at Killian, but shook her head. Only a few people knew of the nightmares that plagued Emma when she was injured or battered with worry. They always headed straight back to her captivity by the giants—The helplessness of not being able to outrun them. The conversations they had of how they would cook her. The fear…always the fear.

Even last year, when she was thrown from a difficult steed she was trying to break (against her father’s orders, of course), the dreams shook her more than the small injury she sustained. But last night, she managed something that never happened. She changed the dream. 

Anton nodded again, as if she confirmed some suspicion he held. “So, you are well?”

Emma let out a small sigh. “Yes, Sir Anton, I am well,” she reassured him.

“Good,” he said quietly. Then slowly stood up, until his head scraped the ceiling of the cabin. “Then I would kindly like to know WHAT YOU WERE THINKING?” His voice boomed across the room, and probably throughout the entire ship, Emma thought as she cringed. Killian placed a finger in his ear and wiggled it, as if trying to regain his hearing.

Anton leaned over…no, loomed over…her. His voice dropped to a deadly low tone. “I have promised your father I would return you safely. And you risk yourself in a stupid and thoughtless act? How could you do such a thing to your parents, to all who hold you dear?” His eyes bore down on Emma, and she decided she preferred the shouting.

The problem was, Emma couldn’t even tell them what she was thinking. She _wasn’t_ thinking. The moment the she heard Killian call for all hands on deck, she knew she needed to be there. It wasn’t even a desire to be in the action. It was a desire to protect the ship, _Killian’s ship_ , and his crew. The idea that someone could hurt something he held so dear offended Emma, and she scurried with the rest of the crew to defend the Jolly Roger.

It hadn’t surprised her when Killian barked at her to go below. She was always being ordered to lower decks when trouble arose. And rarely did she listen. It was when Killian pulled her to the railing and asked her to go, for him, that she relented. _I will not be able to focus on the task at hand if I have to worry about your safety, savvy?_ The pleading look in those piercing, blue eyes struck Emma at her core. It was the first time she understood that she might put someone else in danger if she stayed. The fight drained from her, and she nodded to Killian. 

She had headed to the steps to go to her quarters. She had intended to stay below. But the moment she realized what Killian planned, she seized the railing that led below deck. Emma’s heart lodged in her throat as she watched Killian fly to the ship – alone. Glancing to the other ship, she watched them all train eyes on Killian. Even the men planning to march across the ladders to the Jolly Roger now fixed their sites on him. 

There was no thinking in her actions. Emma simply raced to the nearest ladder and dashed across. The first man she spied was one of the powder gun runners. She remembered clearly her father’s warning about gun powder, and how her brother August nearly blew up one the prized ships in his fleet when the young prince snagged a powder satchel on a nail and spread the dark, flammable sand all over the deck during drills. 

_Thank you, August,_ Emma thought as she jumped along the railing, and ran to the marauder with the satchel. Unsheathing her knife, she yanked the bag from his arms as he stood open-mouthed. Emma jabbed the bag with her knife and raced along the railing, pouring powder across the deck. 

She didn’t get far, when the swords began to swing in her direction. Emma leapt over one man’s blade, kicked back and smacked the sword from his hands. Jumping onto the deck, she scooped it up and immediately braced for the thrust of another marauder’s sword. Fighting back a huge, sweaty man (with rather questionable personal hygiene) Emma failed to see another blade swinging close by. The burn of steel sliced into her arm, and she stumbled against a cannon. The sweaty marauder slashed his blade down, clanging it onto the cannon as Emma pushed away onto the deck. She caught sight of a tinder match and snatched it from beneath the cannon.

Jumping back, Emma choked down the pain lancing through her arm as she swung the sword in a great arc, giving her enough room to scurry back onto the railing. Two men lunged at her, and she somehow managed to parry them both off. Flicking the tinder match, she thought to drop it on the deck and dive off (in a rather piratic way, if she did say so herself), when a familiar blur rushed toward her. Dropping the match onto the deck, Emma braced herself for the sweeping collision with Killian, who hoisted her into his arms and proceeded to fly across the ship. “We really must stop meeting like this,” he said. 

And the rest was a bit of a blur to Emma. She quickly replayed it in her head. _No, none of it made sense_. Emma had risked everything—her mission to get August, Anton’s trust, her very life—just because she feared for Killian Jones. _No, no sense at all_. 

Usually, Emma would respond to Anton’s shouting with some flip retort, but the look in Killian’s eyes mingled with Anton’s words, _All who hold you dear_. Resigned, Emma dropped her head. “I didn’t think. I apologize, Anton.” 

Anton opened his mouth, seemingly ready for another blast of yelling. Instead, he paused for a moment, and looked at Emma as if she was suddenly growing three heads. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked.

She raised her eyes to him. “I owe you an apology. I did not think.” She rose and stepped up on her chair. “Thank you for fixing me up.” She placed a kiss on his cheek. Climbing down, she looked at both men. “I’ll go see what Mr. Smee needs with repairs.” 

Killian watched her walk through the door. “He gets a kiss for a few stitches? I flew across a ship for you!” he called, then snickered at the sound of her sigh in the hallway. Looking up, he saw Anton staring down at him with a peculiar expression. Killian pointed to the door. “I’d better go fix my ship,” he said. Grabbing his boots, Killian scurried out the door after Emma. 

Anton pinched his nose with his thumb and finger. “Two more days to the islands,” he muttered. “Just two more days.” 

~CS~


	7. I Worry About You

~CS~

Emma stepped onto the deck to what was possibly the most beautiful day she had ever seen—and she lived on edge of the Enchanted Forest, for Pete’s sake. 

Perfect white tufts of clouds dotted an impossibly endless, blue sky that reminded Emma of a certain pirate’s gorgeous eyes. Her lips ticked up in a small smile. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the sweet air, and listened as the ship slipped through the tranquil sea.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” said Killian, making her jump at the sound of his voice. 

“A little warning there, captain,” Emma chided, her smile never wavering. She looked at the breathtaking morning and nodded in agreement. For a moment, amid all this beauty, Emma felt the ridiculous urge to take Killian’s hand. _What are we going to do? Hold hands and take a stroll down the deck?”_ Emma thought, the picture coming to mind of her and Killian practically skipping along the wooden planks together. She bit back a laugh, and Killian gave her a curious glance. 

“Care to share your thoughts, love?” Killian asked with an uncertain smile. 

“Not in this lifetime,” murmured Emma, before adding, “Just wondering where you need me today.”

Killian held her gaze for a moment. Emma’s smile faltered as she spied a flicker of vulnerability shadow his expression. She recognized it as the same look he carried when asking if she was bored during the tour—as if Emma’s opinion of the ship, and him, truly mattered. 

“Captain!” called Mr. Smee from across the deck. The portly man jogged to Killian, who drew himself up and quickly displayed the confident smirk Emma knew well. Her smile returning, she gave her thoughts a mental shake. _Just imagining things, Emma, _she chided herself with a hint of relief. _Self-assured pirates don’t need the approval of women they have only known for a few days._ __

“Ah, Mr. Smee,” he slapped the man on the back as he approached. “Have repairs started?”

Smee unfurled a paper parchment that carried the schematics of the Jolly Roger. “We’ve pulled down the remains of the mizzen sail, and Sprat is leading the mending. Gep is assessing the cracked jib, though I fear it may be out of commission until we land,” said Smee. 

Killian nodded. “Well, if Geppetto can’t fix it, no one can,” he said. Leaning over to Emma, he added, “Man does miracles with woodworking.” Emma tried to persuade the goosebumps on her arm to _go away_ before Killian caught onto how much his proximity affected her. She looked up and spotted an older gentleman whom she assumed was Gep, adjusting his glasses and reaching toward the shattered beam. 

“And where can I help?” asked Emma, taking a careful step away from Killian and aiming for a nonchalance she rarely felt in his presence.

Mr. Smee cleared his throat. “Well, Miss Emma, I hadn’t thought.... You were injured so I...,” he looked helplessly to the captain, who only smiled.

“She’s with me!” Leroy called from his stance near several men who were beginning to smooth out the tattered sail. Killian offered Emma a slight bow, motioning toward Leroy. Emma walked away a little faster than her plan for nonchalance should allow. 

“What can I do?” Emma asked as she approached Leroy. He shoved an armful of sail into her arms. 

“We’re going to need to walk this out to see if it can really be repaired,” Leroy snapped, and marched away.

“Ooooookay,” said Emma slowly. She began to walk back, gently laying the material on the deck, as she saw the others do. Watching them, she noticed no one met her eyes. _Great,_ she thought. _So much for Killian’s attempts at chivalry._ Emma sighed. She was used to suffering the judgement of strangers. Life in the palace often meant someone was watching—and forming opinions—on your every step. Of course, just because she was used to it, didn’t mean Emma liked it one bit. 

She pulled the material a little harder. _Yesterday they were singing my praises, and today I’m reduced to the captain’s mistress,”_ she thought, and gave the sail a particularly rough tug in frustration.

“Watch it, sister!” Leroy shouted. “We want the sail back into ONE piece, not torn into bits!” 

Emma dropped the mound of sail from her hands and stomped over to Leroy. “What is your problem?”

Leroy’s eyes narrowed. “My problem? What is your problem with the captain?”

“What are you talking about?” Emma yelled, throwing her arms up in frustration, and feeling the sting the movement cost her wounded arm. The others working on the sail slowly began to gather round.

Leroy huffed. “You live in a palace, so you’re too good for him? That it?” Leroy tossed his handful of linen sail to the deck. “Let me tell you something, sister, _plenty_ of women would have killed to be in your shoes last night.” 

Something in Emma’s brain flickered and snuffed out like a candle caught in the wind. She shook her head, trying to comprehend the small man’s words. “Wait, are you saying you’re mad at me for NOT sleeping with the captain?” She turned to see the same expression of disappointment or wariness on the other men. “Are you kidding me?”

Leroy walked right up to Emma and pointed a stubby finger in her face. “Listen, lady. I know he’s a cocky son of a gun, but that guy took in my _whole family_ and offered us work when we didn’t have any. All _six_ of my brothers and me.” He waved an arm back in the direction of MistHaven. “He even helped two of them set up shop, now one is a doctor and the other owns a flower shop—though why the one with allergies wanted to be a florist, I’ll never know,” he muttered.

Emma continued to stare at Leroy. He slapped his hand to his face in frustration. “Look, I’m not saying you have to fall in love with the guy, but just _look_ at him,” Leroy reached out and spun Emma toward the quarter deck where Killian laughed with Mr. Smee. “I’m telling you, I have known this guy for years, and I have never seen him this…this....”

“Besotted,” said another short man in a dreamy voice. Emma looked at him and realized the resemblance to Leroy. 

“Yeah, Happy, that’s the word,” said Leroy, and looked at Emma. “He’s good with words, though he smiles too much.” Happy simply laughed. 

“You know, maybe nothing happened because he doesn’t find her attractive,” said a skinny man to her right. “She is rather on the thin side.” He gave Emma a sympathetic gaze.

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Magic Bean Pole,” snapped Emma, glancing down at her lean frame.

Leroy rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Sprat. Just because you like your wife with stomach rolls, doesn’t mean every man does.” Sprat sighed, seemingly lost in a memory of his pudgy wife. 

Emma shot Leroy an incredulous look. “Ignore him,” he said, waving off Sprat. Taking Emma by the arm, he guided her from the group. Leroy turned her again to face Killian’s direction. “Emma, I’ve seen our captain swagger and flirt, I’ve seen him woo his share of women—believe me—but I have never seen him the way he is with you.” 

Emma’s breath left her. She stared, transfixed on the spot where Killian poured over what looked to be a map with Mr. Smee. _There can’t be anything between you,”_ a voice inside her head whispered. _You have to marry Walsh._ She knew the voice was right, but that didn’t stop her from imaging—just for a moment—a life of riding the waves with Killian by her side, fighting storms, finding treasure, waking up next to him….Emma shook off the thoughts. She was about to tell Leroy where he could stick his advice when a gentle hand touched her arm. She looked to see Happy had followed them. 

“No one knows how much time we have,” Happy said with a small smile. “You should find happiness where you can, dear Emma.” 

She looked back at Killian. Maybe Happy was right. _But your kingdom, your duty_ , nagged her inner voice again. Emma decided then and there to ignore that voice, and listen to her heart instead. She may only have known him for a few, sparse days, but being near Killian made her heart lighter somehow. Emma leaned over to place a light kiss on Happy’s cheek, then headed toward the quarter deck.

~CS~

“Captain, are you humming?” Smee asked as Killian reviewed the tweaks in navigation from their journey through the night.

“Hmmmm?” was all the sound he made as he scanned the chart, but Killian realized he _had_ been humming. It was something he hadn’t done in years, but a lightness surrounded him, and Killian knew it had nothing to do with the marvelous day. 

“I’m glad to see Miss Emma is doing so well,” Smee said, venturing a small smile. “She seems to bring a certain amount of…I don’t know… _flair_ … to the journey.”

Killian looked up with a raised eyebrow, and the man had the good graces to drop his smile and look to the horizon. “Why, Mr. Smee, are you suggesting we are in short supply of _flair_ without the lady Emma here?”

Smee coughed and shook his head vigorously. “No, captain, certainly not!” he cried. Killian tried not to smile at the poor man, who was so easy to fluster. “It’s just good to see you happy, sir,” Smee said, then suddenly took an interest in the completely calm seas. 

Sneaking a glance in Emma’s direction, Killian stifled a sigh. _It wouldn’t do, having the captain bloody gob-smacked over a woman, _he thought. He glanced again at the chart, and paused. “Mr. Smee, are we ahead of schedule?” he asked.__

Smee smiled brightly. “Yes, captain. It seems Tiny was right.” Usually, the Jolly Roger raised most of her sails in the night to spare them the work of the winds. But Anton insisted speed was a factor in this mission, so Killian had a small crew keep an eye on the sails as they flapped through the darkened skies. “So we have…”

“Just two more days. We should arrive by tomorrow evening, sir,” Smee’s unvarnished smile contrasted the uneasy feeling crawling into Killian’s stomach. _Only today and tomorrow, and then Emma was back to her prince,_ he thought. Part of him wanted to demand they lower the sails, invent some problem so they could drift for a few days, just bobbing about with Emma at his side. But Killian knew he couldn’t do that to Emma, nor to the men who awaited rescue. He looked down at the chart and grimaced. _Gob-smacked, indeed._

Shoving the thick paper into Smee’s hands, Killian turned to see Emma place a kiss on the cheek of one of his more jovial crewmen. “Keep an eye on things, Mr. Smee, will you?” he asked. “Call me if I’m needed.”

“Yes, sir!” said Smee, now unable to contain his smile. 

Killian turned back to him. “And Mr. Smee, try to make sure I’m not needed.” He winked, and heard the man chuckle as he strode away. 

~CS~

Killian rounded on the steps just as Emma was about climb them. “I…uh...thought it might be time to check your bandage,” he said, looking at her arm. Frowning, he took in the sight of her torn shirt, hastily repaired by Anton with some of the wrapping. Killian eased her arm into his hand. “My apologies, lass. I did not think to offer you a change of clothing.”

Following his gaze to her patched-up shirt, stained with lines of her blood, Emma pulled her arm away quickly, and winced at the movement. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly, dismissing the pity in his tone. Emma had no idea how to get him to kiss her again, but she was fairly certain it did not begin with him cleaning dried blood out of her shirt. 

She glanced up at him and saw his eyebrow raised in disbelief. She swallowed and tried again. “Maybe it would be a good idea to change the dressing,” she moved the arm slowly. “Sir Anton still has the supplies in our cabin.” 

Motioning for her to proceed, Emma led the way to the cabin. She peeked in, half expecting to find Anton pouring over a map, but the cabin was deserted. The bag with his medical supplies lay in the corner of the room, and Emma crossed the well-worn wooden planks to retrieve it. “I’m not sure what you need,” she said, bringing the bag to the room’s only small table. As she rummaged for bandages and scissors, her hand brushed across a piece of paper. Peering into the bag, Emma caught the edge of a note with her mother’s elegant hand. _Bring them home to me safely, Anton, please_ , it read. Emma’s heart clenched at the words. She glanced over to Killian, and he paused in his task of filling a basin with water from a small, wooden pitcher.

“What is it, Emma?” he asked, concern seeping into his voice.

She looked down. “Just a note to Anton from my parents,” she said, quickly pushing the paper aside to see the case with the bandages beneath. 

“I’m sure they worry about you,” he said, placing the basin next to her on the table. Taking the box from her, he extracted the bandages. Killian slowly raised her shirt sleeve, taking care to untangle it from the wrapping. “It must be nice to have people who care enough to be concerned,” he added, not looking at her as he concentrated on the bandage. 

Emma laughed lightly. “Well, you must know what it’s like to make people worry, with your proclivity for heroically flying around ships and all.” 

Killian paused in his work. “Heroic? Is that how you see me, Emma?” He offered her an appraising look, then nodded in approval. “I could get used to that. Does being a hero come with benefits of any kind?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. 

Emma rolled her eyes. “Generally, no,” she said, and thought of all the work her parents did over the years, just because it was the right thing to do. She added quietly, “Honestly, I think I’m a pretty big disappointment to them.” Emma blanched at her own honesty. She looked up, hoping Killian was too preoccupied with the dressing to hear her. But his brilliant, blue eyes were focused solely on hers. 

“I cannot imagine you being a disappointment to anyone,” he said so earnestly that Emma felt a lump catch in her throat. She stared at him for a moment, then looked down.

“You haven’t met my parents,” she said quietly. “They’re…uh….”

“Demanding?” he offered. 

“No, they’re actually perfect,” said Emma. At his puzzled gaze, she continued. “Seriously, they do everything really, really well. They are kind, and fair, and wise, and loving….”

“They sound terribly dull,” Killian said, and turned his attention back to unwrapping the bandage.

Emma smiled and shook her head. “They aren’t. And there are times I wish I was more like them, perfection aside.” Killian threw a doubtful look her way. “Really,” she said. “I mean I live in a palace known for grand dances, and I can’t even waltz.”

Killian raised an eyebrow at her. “I beg to differ,” he said simply and returned to the dressing.

A blush crept up her cheeks as she remembered their dance together. “That was different,” she said softly, watching as he finished unpeeling the final layer. A quick hiss escaped her lips as the puckered stitches revealed themselves. 

Killian’s eyes shot to her face. “Did I hurt you, love?” Shaking her head, she watched relief rush over to his features. He turned her arm gently to inspect the wound. “You’ll certainly have a badge of honor with this one.” He picked up a cloth and dipped it into the basin. 

“Badge of honor?” Emma asked, and felt her throat go dry when the tips of Killian’s fingers slipped over her arm as he gently patted the wound clean. “Do you mean the scar I’ll have?” She tried to peek around to get an idea of how deep the wound ran, but Killian held her arm steadfastly in place. 

He nodded. “Only if you’re lucky, Emma. All pirates with scars have great tales to tell.”

A smile danced on Emma’s lips. “So I’m a pirate now?” she asked.

“I’m thinking of making you an honorary one, after your theatrics yesterday,” he said. Killian picked up the roll of bandages, thought better of it, and placed them down while he unfastened his hook from the base. Emma tired not to stare in fascination as she heard the metal unclick from the lock. Killian placed the hook on the table, and picked up the bandages with his good hand. Unspooling the strip with his teeth, Killian held the bandage in place with his stump while he began to wind it around her arm. 

“That must be a great tale,” she said, looking at his stump. His eyes met hers, shocking her with the jolt of pain that raced through them. “I’m sorry to pry,” she whispered.

Killian shook his head. “No worries, love,” he said a little too lightly. Looking back at her arm, he added. “Lost my arm the day my brother died.”

Emma reached up and placed her hand on his. “I’m sorry, Killian,” she said softly. 

He ventured a glance at her, and offered her a small smile. “Yes, it was taken by a crocodile.”

“A what?” she asked.

“Well, he _looked_ like a crocodile,” Killian said, his smile slowly widening. “I think he was a bit sea sick.”

Emma pursed her lips at his jest, and dropped her hand away. “So a sea-sick soldier cut off your hand in battle?”

Killian pulled his attention back to her arm. “He wouldn’t have gotten the drop on me if I hadn’t just seen Liam receive a fatal blow,” he said. Emma opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly added, “All in the past, dear Emma.” He continued to roll the bandage, then said quietly. “But in answer to your question, no, I do not have anyone to worry about me.”

She watched in silence as he rolled the wrapping around her arm. “That’s not quite true, Killian,” she said quietly, her eyes focused on his movements. He paused in his work, but she refused to look at him. “Anton wanted to know why I jumped on that ship. Well...,” her heart raced as she drew enough courage to say the words. “It’s because I saw you in danger.” Emma found a sudden interest in a chip in the cracked wood of the table, and slid her finger across it. "I know you didn’t need my help, but when I saw those men take aim at you, I had to do something. I…I worry about you.”

Emma held her breath, her eyes trained on the table. An instant later, she watched the bandage roll to the floor. She felt Killian’s hand grasp her chin, and he crushed his lips to her. A small squeal of surprise escaped her, but she quickly wrapped her good arm around his neck. Killian pulled her close, sliding her between his legs as his lips ravaged her in a claiming kiss. This was a kiss meant to banish any thoughts from Emma’s mind, she knew, and she surrendered to it.

His tongue sought entrance to her mouth. As she allowed him to invade, Emma heard a muffled moan escape Killian as she reveled in the sensation of his tongue caressing hers. His hand snaked into her hair, cradling her head as he broke the kiss. She groaned in protest, but ceased when his tongue began to trace small circles down her neck. Feeling Killian’s teeth scrape gently across the hollow of her throat, Emma gasped and leaned back, bracing her shaking hand on the table—right onto the sharp hook laying there.

“Yeow!” she yelped. Trying to sit up quickly, Emma bashed into Killian’s head. 

“Oooof!” Killian straightened himself, rubbing his battered nose. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

Raising her hand, Emma showed him the small dot of blood forming in her palm. She shrugged.

Killian grabbed her hand, his blue eyes flaring with concern. He looked down at the table and sighed. “Bloody hook,” he mumbled, as he picked up the wet cloth and gently dabbed at the tiny cut.

Emma smiled at his delicate ministrations. “Guess I was a little distracted,” she said. Killian’s eyes met hers, and a slow smile spread on his lips. 

“I tend to have that effect,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. Looking down at her hand, he added in a low voice, “Though it would be nice if I could kiss you without you leaping away from me.”

“Or into you,” she added.

“Oh, Emma, you can leap into my arms any time you choose,” he said, and placed a tender kiss on her palm. Emma’s stomach tumbled into a flurry of butterflies at the simple action. Raising his eyes to meet hers, she gasped at the heat she found swimming in the entrancing blue. Without another word, he leaned toward her. 

At that moment, the door of the cabin swung open. Emma jumped at the sound, and Killian dodged in time to avoid another collision. “Good thing I’m heroically agile,” he mumbled to her as they watched Anton enter the room. Emma bit back a laugh.

“Good,” said Anton briskly, ducking into the room carrying a rolled-up map. “I’m glad you are changing your dressing.” He strode to the table with one step and began to unroll the map. Picking up the hook between his thumb and forefinger, he held it out to Killian. “I believe this is yours?”

Killian took the hook and placed it back into the brace with a click. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, dear Anton?” Reaching down to pick up the discarded bandage roll, he proceeded to finish the wrapping and tear the material with his teeth. 

Unfurling the map beside Emma on the table, Anton pointed to a small mass of oblong juts. “I believe the crew would have made for this set of the islands. There could be a beach, and this area is rumored to have caves.”

Glancing at the map, Killian nodded. “I think I can make my way there.” He held the end of the bandage in place with his mouth and tied the end. “Looks a bit tricky, though.”

“Then it’s lucky we have you on our side,” said Anton without inflection. 

Killian’s mouth dropped open in obviously mock surprise. “That, my friend, is the closest you have ever come to complimenting me.” He looked at Emma with pride. “Maybe I am hero material after all.”

Emma laughed, but her focus was quickly drawn to the map. _Hang on, August, we’re coming,_ she thought. 

~CS~


	8. She Has a Duty to Herself

~CS~

Killian stood over the plans his navigator rapidly sketched. Discarded attempts to find a safe route to what he now considered “Anton’s reef” lay sprawled across the wide table in his cabin. Tossing a piece of parchment onto the ornately carved wood, Killian sighed. 

“No, Hansel, that won’t work either,” Killian said, his patience draining with each passing swipe of the lad’s pencil. “We may be able to get IN to that cove, but with the tides, we’ll surely get pulled into the high rocks and lose our way back.”

Hansel scrunched up his face in confusion, and Killian wondered—not for the first time—why he ever agreed to take on the young man as his navigator. _Ah, yes, his sister, the fair Gretel_ , Killian remembered with a slight smile. The snapping of the pencil on the paper drew the captain’s attention back to the failed attempts. “Let me give it a go, lad,” he said, thankful his brother made him study twice as hard as the others he commanded. _Never know when you’ll need it, Killy_ , he would say. Killian picked up a pen knife, sharpened the pencil, and pulled a book closer to scan the list of times it held. 

“Sir, isn’t a bit risky to use the tide schedule of the kingdom of Chillon?” Mr. Smee asked timidly. Hansel picked up the book and turned it about, as if trying to assess the schedules. Killian smacked his hand, and the book tumbled back to the table. 

Setting the book to rights, Killian found the page he needed. “It’s the nearest kingdom to the Deravan Islands,” he said to Smee,“and probably the ship’s destination when it was attacked.” Killian now had books on the tides of almost all the major kingdoms of the land. He’d managed to swipe this one from a Chillon harbor master when he and his men smuggled in ale for an unprecedented royal wedding. Supposedly the bride was rumored to have merpeople in her blood. Killian mentally shrugged. _Some royals like brunettes, some blondes. Apparently Prince Eric had a thing for fish_.

Killian paused for a moment. _Blondes_. Right now a devastating blonde—whom Killian was sure very much needed to be kissed—was on deck helping Anton and his crew prepare the rowboats for the journey into the rocky beaches. Ever since Anton stuck his oversized thumb on the spot he wanted to land, Killian had tried not to concentrate on how eagerly Emma launched into preparations. _Ready to get back to her prince_ , he thought. He tapped his finger idly on the map. _One second she is wrapped in my arms, and the next she is scurrying off to save another man_. The pace of tapping increased. 

How exactly was he supposed to compete with a prince? A man who could easily cover Emma in silks and jewels…. _Jewels_. A sick realization settled in Killian’s stomach as he pictured Emma pulling a string of sparkling sapphires from around her throat. How easily she offered them as payment for her passage. _A gift from her prince_. The thought stung as he imagined Emma smiling with the prince’s arm around her side, tossing Killian that same necklace as if it were a mere trinket. “I’ll pitch it into the sea first,” he vowed under his breath, knowing at the same moment he could never refuse payment. He wouldn’t ask his men to go without pay for the sake of his wounded pride. Killian tossed the pencil across the room in frustration, startling the men standing on each side of him. 

“Don’t worry, captain, we’ll find a way,” said Smee. Hansel dashed to grab the pencil, but searched around aimlessly, unable to find it. Smee rolled his eyes at the man. Turning to the captain, he added, “You’ve never given up before, sir, and I don’t think you intend to now.”

Killian looked up at Smee, whose pudgy face was glued in a mask of certainty. Barking a small laugh, he slapped Smee on the back. “You are very right, Mr. Smee. I don’t give up without a fight.” He pulled another pencil from the pile of papers, and turned back to the map. _Let’s go find your prince, Emma_ , he thought. _So I can win you fair and square.”_

~CS~

The rest of the day flew by as Killian and Smee oversaw the crew gathering supplies and making ready the ship. Killian only managed to send a few winks Emma’s way, and contrived to have one utterly inappropriate incident where he brushed up against her, just to watch the lovely blush color her cheeks. 

Anton hovered more than usual, much to Killian’s chagrin and relief. As he worked with his tight crew to make sure the Jolly Roger wasn’t bashed against the rocks of the islands, only Anton seemed to reign Emma back from overworking her injured arm. Yet the man had a way of showing up just as he maneuvered his way to the lovely lass. 

“So, my good man, you wouldn’t be going out of your way to keep Emma and I apart, would you?” Killian muttered to the giant man, who was holding one of the rowboats aloft for Gep to patch a potential hole. Leaning down to survey the work, Killian added, “Afraid what your prince will say when he finds he’s lost her?” Anton raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

Gep fumbled with one of his tools and it clattered to the deck. Killian glanced at a small group of men nearby. “Jack!” he called. Two men looked up. “Not you, Sprat, the _other_ Jack.” Killian pointed to a bag close by. “Grab those tools and come give Gep a hand. Come on, lad. Be nimble, and hurry it up.”

Jack jumped over a set of candle sticks waiting to be loaded on a boat, and dashed over to Gep, bag in hand. “That’s a good man,” said Killian. He turned to go, but paused and looked at Anton. The knight couldn't be worried, surely, but Killian set his mocking tone aside for a moment and said, “You know there is always a place for you on this ship, Anton. You’re welcome to join Emma and me on board if the prince doesn’t take the news well.”

Anton’s expression didn’t falter, but Killian thought he caught a slight glimmer of surprise in his steady stare. “I’ll bear that in mind,” Anton said evenly. Shifting the weight of the small craft to one arm, Anton bent his head toward Killian. “Has she agreed to stay with you?” he asked. Though Killian expected his comment to be greeted with the skepticism, the pirate found only what he believed could be concern in Anton’s voice. 

Killian waved his hand dismissively. “Not yet, but look at her, Anton. It’s clear she belongs on the sea.” He smiled as he watched Emma show Nibs how to toss a knife into the main mast. The sea breeze caught the edges of her hair as strands danced to be free from the tight ponytail that encased them. She laughed as Nibs’ dagger clattered at the foot of the mast, and Emma handed him hers. Motioning to her own arm, she mimed how his shoulder should round with the throw. Nibs nodded, and this time when the blade sailed, it sank into the mast. Nibs yelped in victory. 

“Have a care with my ship, you two!” he called at them. Nibs’ eyes widened, and he hurried to extract the knife from the mast. Emma simply smiled and inclined her head in greeting. Killian laughed and gave her a grand bow in return. He looked at Anton. “Yes, mate, she belongs here.” Anton remained silent, his eyes fixed on Emma. 

“The lady has duties in MistHaven, Hook,” Anton said with quiet certainty. “Duties from which she cannot turn away…nor would she.”

“She has a duty to herself, and no one else,” Killian responded. Both men stared at Emma, but the tension crackled between their solid stances on the deck. 

“That should do it,” Gep said, moving from under the boat, and slowly rising to his feet. Anton and Killian moved to give the man a hand, but he waved them away. Gep rose with effort, then patted them on the shoulder, one at a time. “You’re good lads, both of you,” he said. As Anton lowered the boat back to the deck, Gep followed their gaze toward Emma and added, “Don’t see any strings on the young lady. So seems to me it is up to her where she decides to stay.” Stretching a kink out of his back, Gep walked away.

Killian smiled at the old woodworker. “Yes, it is up to the lady in question,” he said, throwing a confident glance Anton’s way. “Wonder who she’ll choose.” He began to stroll away, even considered whistling just to aggravate the knight, but Anton held out a large hand, abruptly stopping Killian in his tracks. “It appears there are things you do not know about the Lady Emma,” said Anton. “I’d advise you to stop your pursuit of her, Hook. Not just for her, but for your own well-being.”

“Is that a threat, mate?” Killian said, a calculated smirk rising to his lips. This was a look he reserved for those who presume to bully their way through a conversation with Captain Hook. _Make no mistake, I **am** captain of this vessel_ , it seemed to say. Running his finger along the gleaming metal of his namesake hook, he raised an eyebrow that silently let the knight know no man—no matter his size—threatened him on his own ship.

Anton rose to his full height, but Killian refused to flinch. “That was not a threat, pirate,” he said, then leaned down to look Killian square in the eyes. “When you see me threaten someone, you’ll know it.” Without another word, he turned and followed Gep down the deck. 

Killian shook his head. “That man is far too serious for his own good,” he muttered. Seeing Emma on the quarter deck with Curly, he watched as she placed her hands on the vast wheel. Jogging to the deck, he called, “Emma, are you trying to woo my man into steering us in circles, just so you can spend more time with me? Bad form, that.” His comments had the desired effect as Emma rolled her eyes. 

“Curly was just letting me give it a go,” she replied. The smooth wood and polished brass slid between Emma’s fingers. As she gripped the spokes, Killian realized he would never be able to handle the Jolly Roger again without seeing her hands there, and somehow envying that wheel.

“Well, what do you think of her, Emma?” he asked, leaning against the wide railing.

Emma kept her eyes on the horizon. “She handles like a dream, as you well know, captain,” she laughed. Killian moved in behind her, unable to hide his smile beaming with pride. 

Placing his hand near hers on the spoke, Killian stepped closer, leaning in until his chest brushed against her back. “You look a natural at the helm, love,” he murmured near her ear. “You could captain a ship of your own someday.” 

Killian felt her stiffen at the words. Her grip on the wheel tightened. “I live in a palace, not much demand for sea captains there,” she said. Though her voice aimed for levity, Killian heard the tense edge.

“You don’t always have to live in a palace,” he said, letting his chin rest on her shoulder. “There are other places you could go. That’s the luxury of living on a ship—the world is open to you.”

Though the stiffness in her back remained, Killian felt it relax just a touch. After a moment, Emma’s cheek pressed gently against Killian’s forehead, and he heard a staggered sigh escape her lips. His heartbeat kicked up a notch in response. Before he could look up to her, however, her chin quickly lifted. "That’s not a luxury I can have,” she said in a voice that reminded Killian far too much of Anton—removed and remote.

Killian lifted his head to look at her but she refused to meet his eyes. Motioning to the nearby Curly to take the wheel, Killian pulled Emma gently to the railing. “Why not, Emma? Are you going to try and tell me you don’t love the sea? You don’t love being on this ship?” He searched her face for an answer and found the sea-green eyes churning with emotion.

“Of course I love the sea,” she snapped. Turning from him, she grabbed the rail. “People expect things of me, Killian. I have an obligation to fulfill.”

Killian stepped behind her once again, but this time refrained from touching her, hoping to keep her from diving away from him. “An obligation? To whom? Your prince?” he asked. Emma whirled on him. Started by his sudden proximity, she sucked in her breath. She responded with a slight nod.

“The prince, the king, the queen…everyone,” she said in little more than a whisper. Meeting his eyes, Emma squared her shoulders, and he watched her resolve harden. “My future belongs to MistHaven, Killian. I’m….” 

“You don’t belong to anyone except yourself, Emma,” he interrupted her. She remained with her mouth open for a moment, then pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. Refusing to be shut out, Killian grabbed her arm. “No one has a claim on you,” he said, pouring all his hopes into each syllable of the statement in an effort to make it true. “ _No. One_ ,” he repeated firmly, before adding in a soft voice, “not even me.”

Her eyes snapped open and locked with his. Something burned in depths of her unrelenting gaze. At that moment, the pirate in him wanted nothing more than to steal Emma into his arms, seal their bond with a kiss, and sweep her away from the world. Instead, Killian fought his every instinct, and stood with his feet rooted to the deck. _Her choice_.

“I wish that were true, Killian…all of it,” she said. As if the sunny afternoon suddenly grew cold, Emma wrapped her arms around herself, the lightness fading from her beautiful features. “I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.” Looking at Killian, her brows furrowed. “Right now, we have to focus on finding those men and getting them home. Can you do help me do that?”

 _All of it_. Did that mean he did have some claim on her? His heart clenched as he thought of tomorrow, of finding the very people who would take Emma away from him. But Killian nodded slowly. “Aye, love, I hold true to my word,” he said. 

Emma moved to leave, but Killian caught her gently with his hook once more. “Just remember, love, you’ll always have a home on this ship,” he said. He saw Emma bite her lip, just before she walked quickly away. 

~CS~

As the sun dipped into the sea, the sky cascaded swirls of orange and pink only Mother Nature could paint. The crew gathered on deck as Bash served dinner, no one wanting to drift below deck and miss the enchanting night. At some point, Sprat picked up his small concertina and whipped up a merry tune. Several men, including Nibs and Curly, broke into a little jig.

Emma clapped and laughed as the pair whirled circles around the barrel where she perched. They headed toward Leroy, who waved them away with an aggravated swipe as he lighted the torches on deck. The young men laughed and linked arms with a more willing Happy.

“Are you done avoiding me for the day, Emma?” Killian asked as he leaned against the barrel. Emma sighed and nodded, obviously unable to deny the way she hovered around Anton after dashing away from him. Killian had to hand it to the giant man, never once did he gloat after Emma’s retreat. Both watched the spectacle of Nibs, Curly, and Happy in a fruitless effort to get Leroy to dance. 

“It’s quite a crew you’ve gathered here, captain,” Emma said with a curious smile. 

Unsure if the woman was teasing, Killian shrugged. “They are all good in a fight, and loyal to a fault,” he said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. 

“I know they are, but I was talking about you—the crew _you_ gathered,” said Emma. When he furrowed his brow in confusion, Emma gestured toward the men laughing, eating and dancing. “You have an aging woodworker, a couple of lost boys, a whole family of men on the short side, two or three Jacks….”

“They all pull their weight, Emma,” he said briskly.

Emma nodded. “They do, and they do it for you.” She turned her attention to him, and Killian tried not to sigh like a schoolboy at the sight of the graceful curve of her cheek in the dancing torchlight. “You’re supposed to be some fearsome pirate…”

“Smuggler,” he muttered. 

She smiled. “You’re supposed to be a fearsome _smuggler_ , and yet you adopt a crew others would turn away."

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting I am somehow _not_ fearsome?” He leaned close to her and offered a playful smile. “I seem to have scared you away for the afternoon.”

Emma looked down, but he noted she did not pull away from him. “I’m saying that you are a good man, Killian,” she said quietly. A small smile ticked her lips, “All smuggling aside, of course.”

He simply stared at Emma as his insides tackled the unique sensation of melting. _So tell me, Emma, what does a man need to do before you see him as ‘a good man’?_ he had asked her the first night they met. _It’s not about what he does, it’s about who he is_ , she had replied. Killian wanted to slide his hand along that soft curve of her chin. He wanted to pull her to him and demand she stop running from herself and never leave him. Instead, he held out his hand. “Would you care to dance, Lady Emma?” he asked. Before she could refuse, Killian wrapped his arm around her and pulled Emma to him. With a smile, he urged her into a gentle waltz as he cradled the soft curve of her back.

The raucous music faded as Sprat caught sight of the couple swaying slowly on the deck. The tune evolved into a soft melody. From the corner of his eye, Killian noted the men found places to rest from their dance until it was only he and Emma left standing. 

“My apologies if I flustered you today, love,” he said quietly, drawing her attention from the onlookers. There was nothing in the world he wanted right now other than to keep Emma in his arms, and he feared the realization of audience would cause her to make another dash. “I tend to have that effect on women,” he added, waggling his eyebrows dramatically. She laughed.

Looking into her glorious, green eyes, he said, “I want you to know I will do all I can to find your prince. My word is my bond.” He swirled her out at arm’s length. Seeing her surprised reaction, he spun her back to him, impossibly closer. “And besides, since I plan to fight for you, I’ll need to meet my rival face-to-face,” he whispered in her ear. 

At his words, Emma missed a step and tripped over his foot. She looked up, noticing they had an audience. “I…I should turn in” she said quickly. As if acting on instinct, Emma curtsied to Killian, who laughed out loud. 

“Milady,” he said, bowing with flourish. He rose and snatched Emma’s hand before she turned away. Placing a soft kiss on her knuckles, he added, “Thank you for the dance.” 

~CS~

A scream ripped through the bowels of the Jolly Roger.

Killian shot up in his bed. _Emma_.

Fighting his way through the tousled blanket, he jumped off the mattress. Killian nabbed his saber from its perch on the wall, and he bolted out the door. Arriving at the door of the cabin she shared with Anton, Killian tried the latch, only to find it locked. He pounded on the door. “Anton! Open the bloody door before I break it down!" he yelled. 

After what seemed an eternity, the door slowly opened. Anton stood in the doorway. In fact, his enormous size blocked the doorway and Killian’s view of anything inside. “Let me in,” he said quickly, trying to push his way past the bulk of man. 

Unmoving, Anton said calmly, “The lady is fine.”

“Like _hell_ she is,” Killian spat. “The whole, bloody ship heard her scream.” 

“It’s all right, Anton,” Killian heard her call from inside, her voice oddly frail. “Let him in.” Killian stared at the giant impatiently. Anton stood a moment more, before stepping slightly to the side, so Killian could edge his way into the small cabin.

Killian dashed to her side and lay the sword down in front of the bed. Pressing his hand to her sweat-soaked forehead, he said, “Love, you are drenched. What happened?” 

“Just a nightmare,” she whispered. Killian pushed her blonde locks away from her damp face, and she shuttered out a staggered breath. He heard Anton pour water into the basin on a table near the door. “I’m fine,” she said weakly, while Killian pursed his lips in obvious doubt. 

Anton tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a damp cloth. Taking it, Killian gingerly dabbed her face. “Tell me what I can do, Emma,” he said quietly, watching color slowly return to her pale visage. 

Emma remained quiet for a moment, and Killian feared she would order him from the room. Instead, she looked down at the bed sheet and mumbled something. 

“What, love?” Killian asked and leaned closer to her. Emma looked up, her sea-green eyes full of stark pleading.

“Stay,” she said.

Anton took a step forward. “Milady, I do not think that is the best idea,” he said, but Killian was already setting the cloth aside. He started to crawl over her unsteady form, when Anton placed a hand on his arm. 

“It’s all right, Anton,” Emma said softly. “He’ll behave himself, or he’ll have me to answer to,” she said, resting her head back on the soft pillow. 

Killian eased his arm away from Anton, and settled in next to Emma. “Don’t worry, knight, I shall be a perfect gentleman,” he said. Reaching down to pull a blanket up over them, he added, “I’ll do all I can to stop any untoward advances from the lady.” A loud “oooof,” followed that statement as Emma jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

Anton’s brow furrowed. “Emma, I’m not sure a pirate….”

“Smuggler,” mumbled Emma and Killian in unison. 

“ _Smuggler_ ,” is the proper bedfellow for you.”

Killian looked up at the giant man. “It’s all right, Anton. She’s safe with me,” he said. The earnestness in his voice must have convinced Anton. After a beat, he nodded, and retreated to the door. “You can take my bunk, mate,” Killian called. He nuzzled his nose in Emma’s hair as Anton closed the door. “Do try to keep your hands to yourself, love. As irresistible as I am, I only have one good arm left for your overgrown body guard to rip off.” 

Emma leaned back into Killian and sighed. “Say goodnight, Killian,” she said sleepily.

“Goodnight, Killian,” he said, feeling the soft shake of her chuckle. “And goodnight, Emma love.” He kissed the back of her head, and pulled her closer. 


	9. Woman up, boys, and let’s get to it

~CS~

Emma woke feeling the acute _absence_ of something. She reached back, and felt only the ruffled sheet. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Emma’s brain scrambled to locate what was missing…something important… _someone_. “Killian,” she realized. Blinking, she sat up slowly in her cabin’s bed to find herself alone. 

Falling back on the pillow, Emma threw her uninjured arm over her eyes. After her nightmare-induced scream the night before, it came as a bit of a relief not to have to explain herself to Killian, especially the part where she begged him to stay like some ridiculous damsel in distress. _You’re a princess, for pity’s sake_ , she chastised herself. Yet after only one night, Emma felt somehow safer, _more like herself_ , when Killian Jones was near. She rose and dressed, simultaneously dreading having to face him, and impatient to see him. 

Finishing buttoning the shirt she borrowed from Killian’s stash the day before, Emma headed down the dark hallway. She climbed the first couple of stairs toward the deck, and stopped. There, with the morning dawning behind him, stood Killian. A telescope to his eye, his feet slightly apart, the strong sea winds whipped through his dark hair. He looked every inch the pirate, and Emma’s heart clenched at the sight of him. Her mind flashed to every wink, every smile, every raising of his eyebrows he’d thrown her way over the past few days. Emma tightened her grasp on the rail to steady herself. _Had it only been days?_

That was all—a few simple days. And in a few more, Killian would sail out of her life. _No one has a claim on you. No. One. Not even me_ , he had told her. Emma closed her eyes. _If only that were true_ , she thought, knowing in an instant what she would do if there were no titles, no threat of war, no MistHaven. Emma would grab the wheel of the Jolly Roger with one hand, Killian with the other, and never let go.

She took a deep breath, trying to sweep the image from her mind. “My future is not my own,” she whispered to herself. Opening her eyes to the sight of Killian lowering the small telescope and leaning against the deck rail, she added, “But my present is mine…for now.”

Emma walked slowly up to Killian, drinking in the sight of the dawn light creating soft shadows on his face. Her turned to her and smiled. Her breath caught at the utter beauty of the man. Still moving toward him, she offered him a radiant smile of her own.

“Good morning, love,” he said before a slight furrow reached his brow. “Hope I didn’t wake you.” She shook her head and the smile returned to his soft lips. Pointing to the sails, he added, “Winds were strong last night, so I had the men try to ride them out for a bit before hoisting a couple of sails.” Cocking an eyebrow, he offered her the telescope. “And I think you’ll be pleased.”

Taking the brass and wooden tube, Emma peered out into the distance. There, just upon the horizon, lay the rounded edges of rocks. “The Deravan Islands?” she asked in awe, glancing at Killian. Still smiling, he nodded. Emma looked back at the lonely set of rocks peeking out of the sea. “How long until we arrive?”

Killian’s gaze followed hers out to the sea. “Should be there by the afternoon, if this wind keeps up,” he said. Pressing his lips together, his smile faltered for a moment, then kicked back into place an instant later. “With any luck, we’ll be able to locate the crew, pull whatever booty we can onboard, and set sail with the late evening tide.”

Emma lowered the spyglass. “Killian, if you return the prince of MistHaven, you won’t have to worry about any booty. There will be a reward. And I haven’t forgotten our deal,” she said, placing her hand over the necklace her mother had given her when she turned 18. Emma never craved wearing jewelry, and she honestly owned frightfully little, but this necklace meant something to her. And she was glad now that it might help Killian and his crew.

Killian stared at the line she was tracing across her shirt, outlining where the necklace lay. She watched his dark irises grow and his tongue peek out toward his bottom lip. Realizing exactly _where_ he was staring made Emma’s hand jump back to her side. She cleared her throat, which only made his smile grow mischievous. “I’m always open to renegotiating that deal, love,” he said in a low voice that made Emma roll her eyes. He chuckled in response. “Can’t blame a man for trying,” he said simply, and leaned over to kiss her chastely on the cheek. Emma closed her eyes again, this time memorizing the smell of leather, sea air, and musk that was uniquely Killian.

He pulled away slowly and looked around the deck. “Ah, the crew is waking,” he said, nodding toward the approaching Mr. Smee and Sir Anton. “Best get the Jolly Roger ready to navigate those rocks.” Killian stood still for a moment more, looking at her. And Emma hoped he was trying to memorize her as well. Then, offering her a wink, he added, “Let’s go catch a prince, shall we?”

Emma laughed and nodded.

~CS~

With the sails unfurled, the Jolly Roger practically flew toward the islands. Emma could barely hear the orders Killian and Smee shouted to the men, but she could see the captain was truly in his element—full of sail and pointed toward adventure. 

The closer they approached the rounded tops of stone, the more Emma could make out the dangers that awaited them. The “islands” were barely more than masses of giant rocks, the tops worn down by wind and sea. Using Killian’s spyglass she realized why Anton chose his preferred site. The splash of sea spray from the inner depths of rocks pointed to a possible network of caves.

As the islands grew near, Emma helped the crew hoist and fasten the sails to slow their pace. The result soon felt like the Jolly Roger—soaring only moments before—now slowed to a near crawl. Killian motioned to Anton and Smee, then he leapt up onto the quarter deck, taking the steps three at a time. Patting Curly on the back, Killian took over the wheel. 

Emma dashed down into her cabin, grabbing the bag full of supplies she’d packed, and securing her knife to her side. As she made her way back on deck, she absorbed the eerie silence that enveloped the crew. The only sound she heard now was Anton’s voice, booming out directions. Smee’s voice followed, repeating the directions for Killian to navigate the path to the beach. Walking up to the deck, Emma’s eyes remained glued to the steep walls of rock slowly closing around the Jolly Roger. What once appeared to be a handful of smooth rocks now loomed, massive and gnarled, over the ship. She moved to the side, tempted to reach out and touch the scarred surface of the walls. Looking down, Emma noted the jagged stones thrust up through the water, and understood the need for Anton’s directions and the crew’s silence. Stealing a glance at Killian, Emma saw his face etched in a determined concentration. Her stomach dropped when he heard the slight scrape of wood against stone. As the ship slipped away from the rock, she released a breath she didn’t even know she was holding.

Emma stood mesmerized as the Jolly Roger inched her way along the narrow passage. Just as she wondered if they would need to scale the walls to get to the beach, the gray rock opened into a giant, circular pool with high, granite walls encircling it. Clearing the ship through the last of the claustrophobic path, Killian gave the call to drop the anchor. The sound of the iron slapping into the pool broke the spell over the crew, and the men scrambled to lower the rowboats. 

“Now that was a bit of fun, wasn’t it?” Killian’s voice brushed by her ear, and Emma jumped. 

Smiling, she raised an eyebrow at him. “I think we have different ideas of _fun_ , Killian Jones,” she said with a small laugh. But Killian didn’t join her. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the bag on Emma’s shoulder.

“Tell me that is a bag you packed just for me on my travels, Emma,” he said slowly, his narrowing eyes in challenge.

This time Emma did not even bother rolling her eyes. She simply stared back at Killian. “No, this is my bag for when I take part in said travels, Killian,” she let her voice drop to mimic his warning tenor. She took a step toward the boats, and walked right into Anton. “Yeeesh,” she said, stepping back. “How can someone so tall be so quiet?”

“It’s a gift,” he said without inflection, but Emma could tell he was joking. Well, as close as Anton _got_ to joking. She noticed he was also looking at Emma, but his eyes were fixed on the knife at her side. “Lady Emma, I know this journey is important to you, but I cannot….”

“Forget it,” said Emma, hiking the bag higher on her shoulder. “This is not up for debate.”

Both men began to speak at once. Killian’s “Emma, there is no way you are going…” ran right over Anton’s “I cannot protect both you and the prince….”

“ENOUGH,” yelled Emma, loud enough that the crew around them suddenly found something to do a little farther away. “Enough,” she breathed, sending each man a direct glare. “I believe _I_ hired this ship to get to the Deravan Islands so I could find August. And I believe that now that we are here, it is _you_ who will be accompanying me on _my_ expedition to save him.”

Emma pushed a few strands of blonde hair away from her face. “Now, I do not care if you coming with me makes it _harder_ for you to do whatever it is you plan to do on this mission,” she said. Looked up at Anton, she added, “If you have trouble doing your job, that is not my problem. You made promises to my father, without talking to me. So you will just have to adjust.” Her head whipped to Killian as he was opening his mouth. “And don’t even _try_ to pull that ‘I’ll be too distracted with you there’ routine. I’m on to you.” Killian clamped his mouth shut.

Pulling her ponytail tighter, she stepped around Anton and headed for the boats. Turning back to them she said, “And, for the record, women have been worrying over men for generations and _STILL_ managed to get things done. So woman up, boys, and let’s get to it.” She marched off to the boats, meeting Leroy’s airborne hand for a high-five.

~CS~

The boats pulled up along the pebbled beach and Emma leapt onto the rocky terrain. She heard Anton’s enormous steps approach. He held the map, but his eyes darted across the beach. “My best guess is they would have made for this set of caves,” he pointed straight ahead. 

Emma scanned the desolate, gray, landscape. “Anton, I didn’t see any sign of a ship, or…wreckage,” she choked out the last word. “How do we know they made it here?”

“Because I ran into a marauder who witnessed the boat go down on the far side of this island,” Killian said quietly as he walked up beside them.

Gripping the hilt of her knife, Emma’s eyes widened. The anger bubbled up inside her. “They _saw_ it?” she hissed. The image of a ship slipping past while helpless men drown drew bile into her throat. “They saw men go into the water and did _nothing_ to help them?” She spun on Killian. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” Emma snapped, making Killian cringe. “And how do you _know_ this marauder?” The image of the Jolly Roger sliding into the night with a burning ship in the distance stabbed her thoughts. 

Anton placed a hand on Emma’s shaking shoulder. “Because I asked him to inquire,” said Anton, “and he did so…at great risk to himself.” Emma took a staggered breath. _Of course Killian was not a marauder_ , Emma’s brain screamed at her. She shut her eyes tightly. When she opened them again, it was to offer him a look of apology. Killian returned the smile, but it didn’t reach his crystal, blue eyes.

Emma was about to turn to the men, who were throwing packs on their backs and securing the boats, when she caught sight of something just beyond Killian’s shoulder. Peering to the side around Killian, she spotted something white—brilliantly white—rustling in the sea breeze. Moving slowly toward it, Emma’s heartbeat increased with each step. “No,” she whispered, and broke into a full run.

With Killian, Anton, and others racing to follow her, Emma dashed to a set of sharp rocks. She swallowed a choked gasp as she reached down to grasp the soft feathers. “Anton,” she said, turning and showing them the bird. “It’s one of my mother’s doves.” Anton looked down at the bird, and his eyes shot back to Emma. Her fingers ran along the dead bird’s breast, where an arrow with black fletching had skillfully pierced its heart.

“That’s one crack shot,” said Leroy, huffing as he tried to catch his breath. Nibs cuffed Leroy’s ear. “What?” snapped Leroy. Looking up at Emma’s stricken face, he mumbled, “Sorry.”

Emma looked down at the bird. “Anton, look,” she said. Pulling a small ribbon from the bird’s foot, Emma held her breath. Unfurling the note within, she gasped and read, “Moving further inland. Beach unsafe. Twelve still alive. The prince is with us.” She handed the note to Anton. “Twelve,” she said quietly. “They left with more than 20 men.” Several of the men slipped off their hats as a show of respect for fellow seamen lost.

Turning the paper over in his hand, Anton ran his large finger across the pattern on the back. “These must be coordinates. Can you navigate them, captain?” Killian took the paper from Anton, scanned it briefly and nodded.

Emma’s hands were shaking as she looked at Killian. “He’s alive,” she whispered. “August is alive.” Despite her sorrow for the men, a laugh of pure joy bubbled up. Emma clapped her hand to the ridiculous grin now emerging on her lips. Failing to stop the tears slipping down her cheeks, she laughed and cried at once. “Killian, we’re going to bring him home,” she said, and threw herself into Killian’s arms. Though she had told herself over and over that August was just waiting for her to find him, there had been no guarantees he had survived the wreck. And now she was here, and so close to her brother. She pressed a tear-stained cheek to Killian’s face. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Killian let his lips ghost her ear. “I told you I would keep my word, love,” he said softly.

Beside them, Anton cleared his throat. Emma and Killian broke apart, and she smiled and asked, “Well, captain, which way do we go?” Killian poured quickly over the numbers, and traced the map Anton held. 

“Looks like that way,” Killian said, pointing toward one of the lower rocks. 

Leroy hoisted his bag onto his back. “Well, in case no one was paying attention, that message the dead bird is carrying said the beach was ‘not safe,’ so I think we should vamoose,” he said, wiggling his thumb toward the rock.

Emma turned her smile to Leroy. “You heard the man. Let’s vamoose,” she said, and headed away from the beach.

~CS~

The small band held onto a wary silence as they first made their way over the rugged rocks and crags of the island. After the first hour of travel, however, talking and even quietly laughter emerged. The mood shifted and relaxed for the group—all except Anton. 

“Someday you’ll have to tell me what it takes to make that man smile,” said Killian.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” said Emma with a small laugh, hopping from one rock to another. “I’m sure he’ll be relieved when we reach August.”

Killian slipped a bit on a nearby rock, and Emma reached out to steady him. “As I’m sure you will be, Emma,” he said, not meeting her gaze. She squeezed his arm. Instead of looking up, Killian pulled out his compass and made a quick adjustment in their direction. Emma followed.

Looking at him, she realized her reasons for not telling Killian about her title were useless now. She trusted him. If she was being honest with herself, Emma knew she trusted Killian from the first moment he swept her into his arms and soared with her onto the deck of his ship. Emma stifled a smile at the image of poor Will tumbling away. Perhaps that trust was the reason she could sleep peacefully knowing he was near. Maybe that was why she could conquer the dreams. 

“I think August will like you,” Emma said, falling into step with Killian. 

Throwing her a curious glance, Killian shrugged. “Of course, what’s not to like?” 

Emma gave a small snort and light jab with her elbow. “I think you’ll like him as well,” she said, envisioning the two of them swapping stories of sailing and the seas. 

Killian pondered that idea. “I probably will,” he said. “I do so like your taste in men, Emma.” He waggled her eyebrows at her. 

Before she could stop herself, Emma let out a quick, “Ewwwwww, Killian,” that reminded her of when August would tease her about boys. He stopped, and stared at her with raised eyebrows. “I mean, I love August,” she paused and looked at him. She sighed. “Killian, he’s been in my life since the moment I was born. He’s….”

“Like a brother?” Killian offered, and Emma smiled at the quiet edge of—what, hope?—she heard in his voice. 

Emma nodded. “Yes, he is EXACTLY like a brother. In fact….”

It was then Emma felt the impact of Anton’s hand yanking her to the ground. She looked up to shout at the giant man, but saw the arrow suddenly dug into the ground beside her. The fletching feathers were the same black that pierced her mother’s dove.

“That was a warning shot,” the smoky voice of a woman called from a nearby wall of rock. Killian drew his sword, and his men followed suit. “The next shot won’t miss.”

Killian peered at the rock. “Show yourself,” he shouted. 

“I don’t think you are in a position to demand anything, pirate,” the voice said in a droll tone. 

Killian paused, then sheathed his sword. He sent a small signal to Nibs, who ducked behind a rock. “Forgive me, milady. Where are my manners?” He stepped into a deep bow. “I am Captain Killian Jones of the Jolly Roger. And you are?”

“Annoyed that you are trespassing on my island,” the voice sneered.

Killian only smiled. “My sincerest apologies. We’ve come to find some of our companions, who were lost in shipwreck a few weeks ago. Did you happen to see them?”

“No. Now get…” The sound of a scuffle erupted from behind the rock. Killian slowly pulled his sword again, and signaled to the men to converge on the rock. Before any could take a step, a hooded figure nudged Nibs into the clearing, a knife to his throat. 

“I tried to warn you to get out. Now that’s not an option,” she said. Emma watched from the ground as more hooded figures stole from behind the rocks, arrows pointed at the Jolly Roger’s crew. 

Killian stepped forward, hands raised in front of him. “Milady, surely we can come to some agreement,” he said with an easy smile, but his eyes remained on where the knife hovered near Nibs’ throat. The figures surrounding the crew aimed at Killian, and pulled back their bows.

“Wait!” yelled Emma, and she jumped up before Anton could snatch her down again. “Just wait,” she said, stepping in front of Killian.

“Emma, for the love of the gods, _move_ ,” muttered Killian. Anton was only a breath away, and stepped in front of Emma and Killian to shield them.

The hooded woman looked at the trio. “Emma?” she asked. Emma squinted, trying to get a better view of at the woman. _That voice, so familiar_ , Emma thought. 

The figure lifted her hand, and slipped off her hood. Though there were lines of gray in her hair, her dark eyes and full lips harkened Emma back to her childhood. “Auntie Regina?” she asked, and broke into a run, knocking Nibs out of the way to throw a hug around the startled woman. “What are you doing here?” Emma laughed and hugged her tighter.

“What am **I** doing here?” Regina laughed. “We were expecting the fleets of MistHaven, not you on a pirate ship.”

Realization dawned on Emma. “The fleets? Then…August?” she asked.

Regina nodded. “We saw the smoke from the wreck, and went to investigate. He’s with us, as are about a dozen of the men who survived.”

Emma threw her arms around Regina again. “Oh thank you! Where is he? Can we see him?” Emma was ready to dance her way to see her big brother, when Anton coughed behind her. “Oh yes!” She turned to the crew. “Gentlemen, this is her majesty, Princess Regina, daughter of Queen Cora and King Henry. Though, she is actually rather wonderful herself.”

Anton quickly dropped to one knee. “Your highness.”

“That is Sir Anton, the greatest knight of Misthaven,” said Emma, as Regina shooed Anton to his feet. 

A playful smile graced Regina’s lips. “I thought _you_ were going to become the greatest knight of Misthaven, Emma.” 

Emma laughed and turned to Killian. “And you have met Captain Jones,” she said. “He’s the one who brought us here to find August.” 

Killian bowed again. “Your highness. If you don’t mind, I’d like my man back in one piece,” he motioned to Nibs, who remained standing stock still by Regina. Killian sighed, marched over to him, and grabbed the man’s arm. Walking past Emma, Killian mumbled, “Bloody hell, love. Is there anyone you know who _isn’t_ royalty?” 

Regina lifted a sculpted eyebrow toward Killian. “So how did you end up with Captain Guyliner?” she asked. 

Emma linked arms with Regina. “I will tell you all about it on our way to August. And you can tell me why you simply vanished. One day you and Daniel were teaching me to ride, and the next you were gone.”

Regina signaled to the men around her to follow. “If you had a mother like Cora, you'd do your best to hide as well. And I couldn’t ask your parents to shelter us any longer.” she said. Regina stopped in front of a large rock and surveyed Emma’s features. “You look so like your father. How long has it been? Ten years? What are you now, 19?”

“Twenty,” said Emma. “You and Uncle Daniel left when I was 10. Is he with you?”

With a sad smile, Regina shook her head. “No,” she said. Emma began to ask why, when a man slid down the side of a boulder and dropped in front of them. The sadness left Regina’s eyes as he wrapped an arm around her. “Emma, this is Robin of Locksley. Robin of Locksley, this is….”

“Just Emma is fine,” Emma said quickly, and thrust her hand out at Robin. _If anyone is going to tell Killian about my title, it will be me_ , she thought, throwing Regina a meaningful look.

Robin gave a slight bow to Emma. “A great pleasure, milday,” he said warmly, and reached out to take her hand. “Apologies for sending that arrow so close to you, but I assure it would not have scratched you.”

Killian stepped in between them, taking the hand Emma proffered to Robin. “Cutting it a bit close, weren’t you, mate?” Though he was addressing Robin, his eyes stayed focused just beyond Robin’s shoulder. 

Regina smiled. “He’s an amazing shot,” she said, and Emma noticed the man actually blushed a bit at the compliment. She was about to comment, when Emma followed Killian’s gaze to the arrows in Robin’s quiver—the fletching in black feathers.

“You shot my mother’s dove,” Emma said, horror seeping into her voice. Robin looked down, shamefaced. 

Regina linked her arm with Emma once again. “That was for me, I’m afraid,” said Regina. As she pulled Emma into an easy stride, her hand slipped from Killian’s. He frowned, but fell into pace with them. Regina walked toward a smaller collection of boulders. “You asked happened to Daniel? He died, years ago.”

“Oh Regina,” said Emma, placing her free hand on Regina’s arm. “I’m so sorry. How?” Emma fondly remembered the warm eyes and soft laugh of Regina’s beloved husband. He was the one who taught Emma patience with horses—a trait Emma never though she could master. Though she had been young when the couple arrived at the palace, Emma knew something was wrong, but she never guessed how great the danger was for them. It was years later, when Emma began to hear the songs and fables Belle told her, that she realized the star-crossed lovers were none other than “Aunt” Regina and “Uncle” Daniel.

Looking up at the sky, Regina shrugged. “My mother, of course,” she said in a low voice. “Those first few years, her ravens scoured the skies for us.” Regina looked at Emma. “If we hadn’t found shelter in MistHaven, I don’t think we would have lasted the year.” Emma pulled Regina closer, though the older woman kept her stride. “The longer we stayed, the more MistHaven would have suffered. So we left, never staying in one place for long.”

Emma stared at the ground. “Your departure may have bought us a few years, but Cora is still a threat to the kingdom, and all the people there,” she said. _Unless I can stop it all by marrying Walsh_ , she thought. Looking back to Regina, she asked, “What does this have to do with my mother’s doves?”

Some of Regina’s men reached the collection of boulders. She turned to Emma. “When she learned we had visited MistHaven, my mother placed an enchantment spell on her ravens. They appeared white, like only your mother’s birds do. Daniel and I welcomed one into the home where we found refuge. By nightfall, her agents and marauders swarmed the small village. Daniel was one of the many who lost their lives.”

Emma closed her eyes. She couldn’t imagine what would happen to her parents if one lost the other. The two of them seemed at times to share a heart, and Emma wasn’t sure if either could bear the loss. Without thinking, Emma opened her eyes and glanced to Killian, who was walking beside her, listening. _What will it be like when I lose Killian?_ she thought, before laughing silently at herself. _You don’t **have** Killian, Emma_ , she reminded herself.

Regina stopped in front of the wide rocks. “Those of us left set out together into Sherwood Forest to hide. So many lost someone that night.” Robin took her hand in his. “Robin lost his wife, Marion, the same night,” said Regina, squeezing his hand. “It took some time, but we made our way to these islands. And we shoot down any birds flying overhead, just in case.”

Emma nodded. She looked up at the men pulling their bows and quivers tight to their bodies. One jumped in between two rocks, and vanished. Emma gasped.

Robin chuckled. “That’s just our passageway, dear Emma. Takes us right to the caves where we reside.” Giving Regina’s hand a quick squeeze, Robin followed his men and disappeared between the rocks.

Regina offered Emma a small smile. “Emma, I’m going to warn you that August was injured in the wreck.” Emma felt her heart fall to her feet. “He’s all right,” said Regina quickly. “He’s safe and recovering nicely. I just wanted you to be prepared.” Emma nodded, and did her best to swallow the knot in her throat. “You ready to see him?”

Emma nodded again, and walked to the stones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note of warning: The next chapter will have reference to Killian and Emma together. I'll change the rating to T then, just in case you lose sight of the story. In case you feel the need to skip Chapter 10, I'll add a quick summary to the start of chapter 11, so you won't be behind.


	10. Not If I Can Bloody Well Help It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a lot happens in this chapter, with family (finally) found, lovers (ahem) joined, and a (not so) pleasant "rescue."

~CS~

Killian watched Emma slip into the cavern between the rocks, a giddy smile gracing her perfect lips. He sighed as Regina and his men followed. _So close. So close to Emma’s prince. So close to the very real possibility of losing her_ , he thought.

Emma had been most insistent that this Prince August was like a brother to her, but Killian wondered if the bloody royal felt the same way. She obviously adored him. How easy would it be for the man staying in those caves to convince her it was more than brotherly affection?

Only Anton and Killian remained by the boulders. Killian leaned forward to see the rather ingeniously hidden mouth of the entrance. The giant knight eyed the passage with suspicion. “Not sure they make these with large men in mind, mate,” he said to Anton. Killian clapped him on the back. “Tell you what, you go first, and I’ll be sure to jump on your head if you get stuck.”

Instead of taking the teasing bait, Anton simply looked at Killian. “The appearance of Princess Regina could change everything, you know. For Emma and for you,” he said, and stepped into passageway.

Killian sighed again. “And thank you for that mysterious and overly dramatic exit,” he said to himself. Leaning into the caves, he added with a shout, “Hope you got stuck mate, because my boots are on their way to _help_ you.” Killian stood, crossed his arms in front of himself, and leapt into the hole.

The rock passage swallowed the light for a moment as Killian slipped downward with increasing speed. The walls quickly opened to an airy cavern as the passage settled into a giant slide. Killian quickly spied Emma and the others helping Anton to his feet as he raced toward them. “Pirate, ho!” he called, and Anton jumped to the side, pulling Emma from the end of the smoothed rock slide. “Not so fast, giant,” he whispered. As Killian slipped to the end of the path, he managed to angle himself to hurl toward Emma. He spun into a roll and the two tumbled to the ground, with a squeal from Emma.

“Pirate, ho?” Emma asked, laughing as she lay sprawled next to Killian.

Killian propped himself up on an elbow. “Aye, it works when we spot land, so I thought it might be useful.” He leaned over to her. “Are you all right, love?” he asked, catching her sea-green gaze with his.

“I’ll live,” she said with a warm smile, and reached up to Anton’s waiting hand.

Regina rolled her eyes at the pair and motioned to a cave entrance sweeping lower toward the ground. “Come on, I’m sure Roland will be furious I’ve brought even _more_ people home for dinner,” she said. Emma ducked and jumped down onto the cave floor. Anton sighed as he surveyed the mouth of the cave. “Sorry, they don’t make many of these in size gargantuan,” Regina said, giving Anton a nudge. Killian snickered. As he was about to follow the knight, Regina placed her hand on his arm. “I’d be careful, pirate. August is the protective type when it comes to people he cares about.”

Killian threw her a small smirk. “My thanks for warning, your highness, but so am I,” he said, and jumped.

The small light in the passage proved to be another deception. As soon as Killian stepped into the cave, he blinked back the bright daylight. As his eyes adjusted, he looked up to the enormous, vaulted ceilings of the cave that arched to an opening, filling the vast area with breezes from the sea. Throughout the cave, men and women worked around small fires or chatted at makeshift tables. They gathered water from a large, clear pool of water. One woman sat with children gathered around a book. Some emerged from deeper, inset caverns that Killian assumed could be sleeping quarters. From what he could surmise, they had managed to create a small farm—complete with goats and chickens—a workshop, school, and even (thank the gods) what looked like a small pub.

“Quite a place you have here, milady,” said Killian, not even trying to mask his awe.

Regina smiled at him as a young man jogged up to her, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Geesh, mom. I send you out for berries, and you come back with _more_ people,” he said.

Laughing, Regina placed a hand on the young man’s cheek. “What did I tell you?” she asked Killian. She motioned to Emma, “Roland, I have known this young lady longer than I have known you, if you can believe it.” She stepped closer to him and slipped an arm around his waist. “Roland, this is Emma, Sir Anton, and Captain Jones.” Roland nodded and smiled in greeting. “Is August awake?” she asked. Roland’s smile slipped a bit, but he nodded again.

“Where is he?” Emma gasped. Roland pointed to an inset cave, and she dashed away. Killian jogged to catch her. He ducked into the recess just in time to see Emma throw her arms around a startled, young man sitting in a cot. “August!” she cried, the desperate tone of her voice cutting into Killian’s heart.

“Emma?” August choked out the word as her arms squeezed him even tighter. Pulling her arms from the grasp, August stared at her. “What are you doing here? How did you get here? Are you all right?”

Killian watched Emma laugh as the tears slipped freely down her cheeks. “Am I all right? We thought you might be dead, you big jerk,” she yelled, and gave him a light punch. “Don’t do that again.”

August laughed. “All right, no almost dying in a shipwreck, got it,” he said with a smile. His smile faltered as Emma looked down at the sheet covering him.

“What happened to you, August? Regina said you’d been hurt,” Emma said. She reached for the sheet, but August stopped her with his hand and shook his head.

“It’s not pretty, Emma, but it’s gotten much better, and I’m going to be all right,” he said in a tone one might use to reassure a small child. Killian rolled his eyes, knowing just where his placating tone would push Emma. True to form, she narrowed her eyes and whipped off the sheet before August could stop her. Killian’s gut churned with the all-too familiar sight of a lost limb.

Emma gasped, and reached down to touch the stump that ended just below August’s knee. “August, your leg,” she said gently, new tears forming in her eyes. August looked pained, but Killian suspected it was more the discovery of his injury by Emma than the injury itself. “What happened?” she asked.

A blonde man pushed past Killian into the small inset. “Saved a lot of men and lost a leg for it,” he said simply. Walking over to August, he felt his forehead. “Fever is still at bay, your highness,” he said, then turned to Emma and Killian. “I really don’t like him having a lot of visitors right…, Emma? What in the hell are you doing here?”

Emma stood up to her full height, nearly matching the man eye-to-eye. “What happened to him, Dr. Whale? Will he be all right?”

Whale looked at Emma as if she had appeared out of thin air. “He’ll…he’ll be fine,” he said. Staring at her for a moment more, he finally shrugged as if surrendering to idea of her there. “Our ship was attacked in the middle of the night by marauders….”

August raised a hand. “She doesn’t need to hear the details, Whale,” he said in a voice that sounded very much like a command.

Whale ignored it. “Everyone will hear this eventually, your highness. Why not start with the people who mean the most to you?” The doctor’s words squeezed at Killian’s stomach— _mean the most to you_. Whale turned back to Emma. “Some of the men died right away, including our captain.”

Emma closed her eyes tightly. “Graham,” she whispered and looked at August, who only nodded sadly.

Whale pursed his lips together, then continued, “It was damn chaos, until Prince Augustus rallied those of us left together, and organized us into the boats. We even managed to secure a few of your mother’s doves, though little good that did us.”

“Sorry about that!” Robin’s voice called from outside the cave. Killian bit back a smile.

Whale leaned down and tapped August’s stump as the prince cringed. “He was the last to climb into a boat, and took some mortar from a cannonball that shattered his leg. Still, he managed to get us to the islands before he passed out from the pain. Bit of a mess, really….”

“And that’s enough, doc,” said August, as Killian watched Emma’s face grow pale. He stepped closer to her, and Emma leaned on Killian’s arm.

She looked at August’s leg. “Does it still hurt?” she whispered.

August scratched his head. “Weirdly, the part that isn’t there still does sometimes.”

“Phantom pains, mate. They fade with time,” said Killian quietly, lifting his left arm and giving his hook a small wave. The man on the cot before him might be a prince, a bloody hero, and the one person who could steal Emma away from him, but Killian knew the kind of pain and shock that came with losing a limb. He looked at August. “When you feel up to it, I have a marvelous woodworker onboard my ship who could fashion you a peg. He’s a talent, and will treat you like you’re his son.”

Whale moved toward Killian. “Do you mind if I take a look at that?” he said, reaching for Killian’s arm. “I’m actually really interested in severed limbs, and….”

“Thank you, doctor!” yelled August. “That will be all.” Whale shot August a confused look, then shrugged and left. “Good man, but kinda creepy,” muttered August. He looked over at Killian. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced.”

Entwining her arm in Killian’s, Emma said, “This is Captain Killian Jones. He brought Anton and I to you.” The small contact made Killian’s heart soar. He stepped closer to her and offered the prince a small bow.

August gave Killian a curious look. “Captain Jones. Which of my father’s ships is in your charge?”

Killian lifted an eyebrow, rankled by the question. _Of course, he would assume I work for his family_ , Killian thought. Before he could answer, Emma interjected, “He has his own ship, August, the Jolly Roger. I hired him to find you.”

The name must have run a bell for August. And as his eyes grew wider, Killian’s smile grew larger. August’s eyes snapped to the metal hook, gleaming at the end of Killian’s arm. “Captain Hook?” August’s strangled voice choked out. “You caught a ride through marauder-infested waters to the unnavigable Deravan Island with CAPTAIN HOOK?”

Killian rose from his bow with a slight smirk. “Ah, so you’re heard of me, your majesty,” he said lightly. _Better to know your rival_ , he thought.

Emma rolled her eyes and shoved Killian toward the small cave’s entrance. “Why don’t you let me talk to him alone, _captain_ ,” she said, and gave him a small push out the mouth of the cave.

Killian stumbled into the main entrance and leaned against the rock wall, trying to catch pieces of the conversation. Leroy walked up to him, and handed him a bowl of something warm. “Heard he lost a leg. Think she’ll still ditch him for you?” he asked, and shoved a spoon full of stew in his mouth.

Looking down at the grumpy man, Killian chuckled. “You have such a way with words, Leroy.”

Leroy patted Killian’s arm. “Come on, boss, this could take a while,” he said pulling Killian over to a table where Anton and Regina talked intently over bowls of untouched stew.

As they approached, Killian saw Regina shake her head. “No,” she said. “I’m not going back.”

Anton met the woman’s steely gaze, and Killian found a new respect for a man who could go toe-to-toe with giants, marauders, and the beautifully frightening Princess Regina. “You could cease the war before it begins, and save more kingdoms than your own,” he said, then paused, and glanced toward Killian. “And what of the lady Emma?”

“What of her?” demanded Leroy over a mouth full of stew.

“You BLEW UP A SHIP?” August’s voice blasted from the cave.

“I learned how to do it FROM YOU,” Emma hollered back. _Good_ , thought Killian. _She’s holding her own._

Anton ignored the outbursts, and Leroy’s query. His eyes stayed focused on Regina. “You would ask another to do what you refused? You would ask Emma to take your place?” Regina closed her eyes for a moment, before pushing herself away from the table, a scowl on her face.

Killian stared at Anton. “Care to share what that was all about?” Killian asked.

The knight looked at him for a moment, his steady expression unchanged. With a quick nod, he seemed to decide something. “The lady Emma is expected to be married shortly,” he said. Killian felt the world tip on its axis and begin to fall away.

 _Married, and to a bloody prince who talked to her like a child?_ Killian thought. His fist clenched as he envisioned Emma trapped away in some palace, longing for the sea. And him longing for her. “Not if I can bloody well help it,” he muttered, and rose.

“Good,” Anton said quietly, earning him blank stares from Killian and Leroy. He looked up at the Killian. “Let’s just say you’ve grown on me, pirate,” he said.

Killian raised an eyebrow at Anton, but then quickly turned and headed for the inset where Emma and August argued. As he approached, their voices were past the shouting, but he caught the edge of August’s statement. “Forget it, Emma. It’s not going to happen. Marriage is off the table,” he practically hissed at her. Killian froze. _Had she asked him to marry her? Is that what she thought her parents expected?_ He walked to the entrance of the cave. _And even worse, had he really **dismissed** her so cruelly?_ An icy anger seized Killian, and he stormed into the inset.

“You’re a bloody villain,” Killian spat at August, who looked up in surprise.

“Killian!” shouted Emma.

He ignored her and moved toward the prince. “It’s one thing for you to place some claim on her like she’s a piece of property, and make her bloody well _care_ for you, but then to deny her what she wants with such disdain….” He viewed August with disgust. “You don’t deserve her.”

“Killian,” Emma moaned, letting her head slap on August’s cot.

August stared at Killian, his mouth ajar. Closing it slowly, he said, “No, I suppose I don’t.” Surveying Killian carefully he asked, “But you think you do, I take it?”

Pointing to Emma’s head, which had yet to emerge from the cot, Killian shouted at August, “This magnificent, brilliant, brave, _goddess_ of a woman? Gods no, I don’t deserve her.” Emma peeked out from under her arm and Killian looked into her endless, green eyes. “I don’t know a man alive who would,” he practically whispered. Glaring back at August, Killian added, “But I do know that I would never hurt her, and would work my whole life to give her what she wants. And if she wants to marry you, then that’s what will happen.”

Both Emma and August reacted at once. August cried out, “What? Why would I marry my sister?” while Emma jumped up and demanded, “You _want_ me to marry someone else?”

Killian gaped at Emma. “Of _course_ I don’t want you to marry…what did you say?” he looked at August.

August’s face still held the crinkle of nausea at the idea of marrying Emma. “Ugh. Seriously, that’s just wrong. In what kingdom were you raised, Hook?”

Killian slowly looked back at Emma. “Sister? So when you agreed that you loved him ‘just like a brother’…?”

Emma shrugged. The voice of Anton drifted from the mouth of the cave. “Captain Killian Jones, may I present the Princess Amelia Ruth Evaline of MistHaven, Emma to those who know her well.” With a weak smile, Emma curtsied before Killian, who just blinked at her.

“Hello, Anton,” August called to the knight. “Good to hear your voice.” He leaned over the side of his cot. “Can’t you talk her out of marrying this idiot, Walsh?”

Anton’s sigh could be heard throughout the cave. “That is not up to me, your highness,” he said.

Killian held up a finger. “Question.” He pointed at Emma. “When did you become a princess? Why didn’t you tell me? And who is Walsh?”

“That’s three questions,” Emma said meekly. “I tried to tell you, but there were cannons, and breathtaking kisses, and narrowly missing arrows…."

August sputtered, “What kisses?” at Emma, just as Robin’s voice hollered, “Sorry about that one as well!” as he walked past the cave entrance.

“And Walsh?” Killian asked gently, letting the others excuses slide after her description of his kisses as _breathtaking_.

“Walsh is a tool,” muttered August. “I mean, he _is_ a tool, but he is also Cora’s tool, to get at MistHaven.”

Anton slid to the ground near the cave entrance and the ground shook slightly. His voice echoed into the cave again. “Cora has promised peace between her kingdom and MistHaven if Emma marries her son, Prince Walsh,” he said.

August crossed his arms. “Fat lot of good her promises mean,” he huffed. “Ems, we’ll be just fine without you throwing your life away.”

Emma smiled softly at her brother. “You know, dad always said your nose flares when you lie. Said it makes you look like your nose is growing two inches.” August looked away, but he didn’t reply.

Killian gawked at August, the shadow of Anton’s legs blocking the cave, and then to Emma. His head spun as he grappled with the deluge of information. Hurling out the end of his duster jacket, he sat cross-legged on the edge of August’s bed. Emma opened her mouth to say something, but Killian lifted a finger once again, silencing her. For a moment more, he sat quietly. Then, in a calm voice, he said, “So, my rival for your affections, dear Emma, is not my rival, but instead your brother, yes?” Emma nodded. He looked at August. “And there is a chance that my new rival, the aforementioned _tool_ named Walsh, is—in fact—the son of the queen who may have ordered your ship destroyed. Am I right so far?” August nodded. He called to Anton. “And you planned to set sail to the islands to rescue said prince, knowing full well that the _princess_ ,” he gave a pointed look at Emma, who had the decency to blush, “might have been married off to said hideous family while you were gone.” Anton gave no reply, but his large feet shifted by the cave entrance. Killian looked around the room. “And you wonder why I think royals are a bunch of nincompoops?” No one replied.

Shaking his head, Killian slapped his hands on his legs. “Seems to me there is just one solution.” He waved his hand at Emma. “Princess Amelia must disappear on the journey home.” He stepped up to her, and took her hand, a pitying look twinkling in his eyes. “It will be a sad tale, full of woe.” He placed his hook to his forehead dramatically. “One sibling giving her life so her brother may live. I can hear the poorly sung epic poems in taverns across the lands now.”

He stared at her for a moment, holding his breath. Killian hoped she knew what he was asking her. _Come away with me, Emma_ , he begged in his head. _Come away with me, my love_. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and Killian felt the tiny cracks invade his rapidly beating heart. He envisioned sailing from MistHaven without her by his side, knowing she was to be enslaved to a man she didn’t know. His stomach churned.

Then, a smile spread slowly along Emma’s soft lips, lighting her already radiant features. “And how will our poor princess go?” she asked. “Fighting off marauders? Skewered by a rain of arrows on the battlefield?”

Killian shrugged, though every ounce of him wanted to sing with joy. _Emma is choosing a life with me_. “Ah, my dear, we shall leave the telling of your moniker’s demise to the knight who finds your battered body,” he said, motioning to Anton’s feet.

Emma cringed. “No way. He’ll tell people I fell in the tub or something. I want to choose my own, epic death.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” muttered August from his cot.

Looking thoughtfully at her brother, she asked sincerely, “Do you have a better idea, August?”

August stared at her. “Gee, Emma, a better idea than you running off to live some nomadic existence, without your home, or friends, or family? Let me think on that. Hmmmm…. I bet I can come up with about _100_ better ideas than that!” he shouted.

Killian raised an eyebrow and pondered the man. “Your brother is grouchy when he is wounded,” he said in a low voice. August rolled his eyes, and Killian offered him a small smile. “I can assure you, your highness, that the Jolly Roger will be her home, and Emma will be among friends.”

“More like FAMILY,” shouted Leroy. Poking his head over Anton’s prone legs, he called, “Hey, royal nincompoops and everyone else. We gotta move if we are going to make the evening tide.”

Killian grabbed Emma’s hand and climbed out of the cave. “Thank you, Leroy.” Nibs and Whale approached with a stretcher for August.

“You really staying with us, Emma?” Leroy asked.

She winked at the small man, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “As long as you’ll let me.”

Killian somehow resisted pulling Emma into his arms and kissing all the sense from them both, but he realized a rather goofy smile caught hold of his face, and refused to let go.

~CS~

With some careful maneuvering, the ship skimmed the waters, safely slipping away from the islands. Snow White’s dove soared ahead to share the happy news.

Though she refused to accompany them, Regina relented to let a couple of her sharp-shooting soldiers (not Robin, of course) make the journey with them to MistHaven, but only if Killian and Emma promised to return when it was time to bring them home.

 _Emma and Killian_ , he savored the sound of the phrase as it rolled through his mind. The idea of a life with Emma was as smooth and intoxicating as the finest rum, a bottle of which Killian held in his hand. Pouring two glasses, he waited for Emma. There would be no questions or protests about where she spent the night (though she’d left that detail out as she bid a hug-filled goodnight to her brother in his nearby cabin). Tonight, Emma was his, and he was hers.

Killian had shooed Bash out of the cabin door shortly after he dropped off dinner for them. He feared the man would pass out from the amount of blush that raced to his cheeks when Killian ordered the meals be brought to his cabin. Though he had prepared himself for comments as blue as the sea about the new arrangements, not a man said a word. Many of them smiled or winked at Killian as he walked past, giving looks of genuine _happiness_ for their captain. _And that is what I am_ , thought Killian as he placed the glasses next to the meals. _Utterly, brilliantly happy_.

A soft knock sounded at the cabin door. Killian bid entrances, and Emma opened the door hesitantly. “I wasn’t sure if I should just….”

A smirk danced on Killian’s lips. “Worried I’d be indecent, love, or is that what you were hoping?” he teased. She laughed lightly and closed the door. Killian moved to pull out a chair for her, but when he looked up, Emma had her hand outstretched to him. His brow furrowed in question, until he caught the unmistakable sparkle of sapphires.

“I…um…wanted to make sure you I gave this to you,” she said, clearly unsure how to hand him the payment. Killian looked down at her hand awkwardly delivering him a small fortune. He met her eyes, tempted once again to dismiss the gift, and painfully aware he could not.

Killian flashed her a charming smile. “Of course, love,” he said, pulling the gems from her hand. “The Jolly Roger and her crew thank you.” He turned to place the necklace in a box on his desk.

“No, Killian, thank you,” she said quietly. “You saved August and his men.” She paused before adding, “And I think you’ve saved me as well.” Killian closed his eyes, his fingers rubbing the precious stones. Once they sold them for supplies and wages for the men, it would be a long time before either of them saw the likes of jewels such as these. For the first time, Killian wondered if Emma coming with him was the right thing for her. He knew—with all his heart—that his life would be brighter with her there. _Is it fair of me to ask her to give up the only life she has known_?

Placing the necklace in the box, he listened to the resounding click of the lid. “This is a hard life, Emma,” he said, not turning back to face her. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He held his breath, awaiting her answer. When none came, Killian leaned his hand against the desk, the deafening silence like a vice to his heart. It was then he felt the gentle touch of her soft hand slide over his.

“Killian,” she whispered. “Tell me now if you don’t want me to stay.”

He spun around to see the tortured look in the depths of her glorious, green eyes. “Gods, Emma, how can you think that?” he asked, his hand moving to her cheek. “Emma…I just need to know what it is you want, love.” He released her cheek to push his hand through his ruffled hair. “I need to know I can give you what you want.”

The pain in her eyes faded, and was quickly replaced by the snapping fire of something sharper. “What I want? Killian, how can you not know what I want?” Emma grabbed his chin. “You know what I don’t _want?_ ” She pulled him toward her until his forehead touched hers. “I don’t want you doubting me—or worse—doubting yourself. I don’t want you thinking you know what’s best for me. And never, I mean EVER, Killian Jones, do I want you to question whether I want to know every inch of you, inside and out.” Emma crushed her lips to his.

As she spoke, all of the air rushed from Killian’s lungs. He struggled for breath as the anger danced in her gaze. _Inside and out_. Then her lips claimed his, igniting a fire that raced to his very soul. Killian engulfed Emma in his arms, returning the kiss with everything he possessed. He wanted her lips from every angle, wanted her closer to him, all of her. With a brazen hunger, he reached for her shirt, untying the laces, giving him access to the slope of her neck.

Emma moaned against him, and the sound only spurred his hunger for her. She reached for his shoulders, trying to push his coat down. Killian shrugged out of it and rushed to make quick work of her vest and resume his work on her (his) shirt. “Remind me to take you shopping when we get to port,” he mumbled against her creamy skin, and he brushed kisses across her shoulder. “Can’t seduce you in my own clothing.”

“Shut up, Killian,” she laughed, as they tumbled onto the bed.

~CS~

“Magnificent,” he mumbled into the mattress, still trying to catch his breath.

Emma laughed softly, running her hands through his sweat-matted hair. “Why thank you, captain. You’re quite wonderful yourself,” she said.

Killian opened one eye and peered at the goddess who had just given herself to him, contently playing with his hair. Killian reveled in the moment, knowing that pure joy was all too rare to find in this life. He memorized each curve of her face, the feel of her hands, the sound of her heartbeat. She was his joy, now and forever.

He turned onto his side, and pulled Emma flush against him. Wrapping an arm around her, he kissed the top of her head. “Sleep now, Emma,” he said. “Before I get the urge to ravish you again against my better judgement.”

“You’re bossy after sex,” Emma said, but curled his arm tighter around her.

Killian smiled. “That, Emma my dear, was not sex. It was making love to the most beautiful woman in this or any realm,” he said, and felt her shake with gentle laughter.

She was quiet for a moment, and Killian thought she may have drifted off to sleep. Instead, she said sleepily, “Killian, we’ll have to tell my parents the truth before Princess Amelia falls to her untimely death into a patch of poisonous vipers.”

Killian yawned and pulled her closer. “Let Anton tell the tale, my love. He seems to get so little joy in life.” She went quiet, and Killian suspected his princess might be pouting. He sighed. “Perhaps we could spread the tale that you were gobbled up by a crocodile,” he offered.

Emma laughed quietly. “A sea-sick crocodile?” she asked.

“Of course,” answered Killian, nuzzling her neck as it was her turn to yawn.

Emma placed a small kiss on his hand. “You know, I think my parents will like you. Well, maybe as much as my father could like a man who carries away his daughter,” she snuggled into the pillow.

Killian hummed in agreement. “Imagine we’ll find out when we have daughters,” he said, but the only response was Emma’s breath drifting into sleep. “Goodnight, love,” he whispered.

~CS~

The crack of cannonfire split the peaceful morning as Killian and Emma shot up in bed.

“Marauders,” Emma gasped, but Killian stilled her with his hand.

Listening, he asked, “What is that noise?”

Cutting through the air, a voice reverberated through a megaphone. “I have come to rescue the fair Princess Amelia! Surrender her, you pirate scum!”

Killian looked to Emma, but she simply shrugged.

The voice returned. “I said, surrender the Princess Amel…hey!”

The first voice faded as another grew in volume. “Give me that, you utter git.” A moment of silence preceded the second voice shouting “Oy! Ems!”

“Will,” Emma gasped. Killian gave her a curious look. “You met him, or at least your boot met him at the docks.” Killian’s mouth kicked into a smirk as he recalled the image of a man tumbling away. Killian’s smile faded quickly at Will’s next words.

“Emma! My tool of a cousin and his nutbag of a mother are threatening to blow up MistHaven unless you marry him. So jump off the side of the bloody ship and swim away, would you? Ow!”

Another pause in the shouting gave way to the return of the first voice. “Sweet Amelia, it is I, your fiancé, Prince Walsh. Come, my dear, and meet my warships that have come to take you…I mean…save you!”

Emma grabbed Killian’s hand. “We can run,” he whispered, but she shook her head.

“Killian, your ship, your men. I have to go,” she said.

He held tightly to her hand. “No,” he hissed. “Blast the ship. And there’s not one man who would not fight for you, Emma,” he said.

“No bloodshed,” she whispered, looking at him. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Emma pulled him to her for a devastating kiss that felt all too much like goodbye to Killian. She looked at him, and attempted a small smile. “Right now we have to meet me fiancé.”

~CS~


	11. Hello, My Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hello, dear reader. I promised a quick summary for those of you who skipped chapter 10. In short, it was a bittersweet reunion with August. Killian discovered Emma’s true identity, and hatched a plan to help her escape a marriage to Walsh, whom everyone agrees is a tool. And Killian “made love to the most beautiful woman in this or any realm.” (He’s such a hopeless romantic.) But, alas! Walsh and a couple of warships have come to “save” Emma. Enjoy!_

~CS~

Emma slipped her hand into Killian’s as he stood behind her on the deck of the Jolly Roger. By the time the two of them dressed and walked on deck, Will and several other men were emerging from one of several dinghies that had pulled up alongside the ship, and making their way up the side by rope ladder. 

They would have appeared on deck earlier, but it had taken Emma a bit to convince Killian that she did indeed need to face Walsh. His adamant plan to hide her on the ship until danger passed tempted Emma—more than she could tell him. 

“You can’t mean to go through with this, Emma,” he practically pleaded with her. Unable to face Killian, she busied herself with ripping her fingers through the tangles entwined in her hair. “What are you doing?” he asked, incredulous. “Are you actually _primping_ for him?”

Emma yanked at a stubborn knot. “I’m—ooof—trying not to look like a kidnap victim,” she had huffed as she tugged on her hair. “Hand me that string on the table, and I’ll just tie it up.” Killian looked at her, and a sultry smile caressed his lips. With his teeth, he slowly undid a leather band around his wrist, and handed it to Emma, whose blush raced through her. 

He leaned closer to her, gently pushing her unruly hair from her face. “You don’t have to do this, Emma,” Killian whispered, his forehead touching hers. “Stay with me, my love.”

 _My love._ Emma had noticed when he shifted the phrase from simply calling her “love” last night, and that small addition of _my_ took her breath away. Closing her eyes, Emma inhaled the scent that was uniquely Killian. Her breath came out staggered. _My love_. “This is about more than you and I right now,” she whispered. “We have to face them.”

Standing on the deck now with Killian by her side, Emma surveyed the two giant warships that dwarfed both Will’s ship and the Jolly Roger. Making a useless attempt to smooth out her errant strands escaping the ponytail in the morning breeze, Emma’s fingers brushed over the Killian’s band as if it were a talisman, giving her strength. Killian reassuringly squeezed the hand he held. 

Anton stood close at hand, unmoving. Emma knew he could see her out of the corner of his eye, but he did not take his gaze from the oncoming ships. “I was led to believe we had another month before these ships would be ready, your highness,” Anton said, staring out to the sea. “My apologies.” 

Emma placed her free hand on Anton’s arm. “You can’t know everything, Anton. And you have looked after my brother and I as no other could.” Though he still did not turn to Emma, Anton placed his hand on hers, the large fist gently engulfing hers. He released her as the rope ladder shook with the emerging men.

Will was the first one over the deck railing, clearing it with a leap. He winced and grabbed his side as his feet made contact with the deck, but he quickly recovered. Scowling when he saw Emma, he stormed up to her. “You, young lady, are in a mess of trouble,” he announced, and wrapped her in a tight bear hug, pulling her into the air, and away from Killian. Setting her down, his eyes searched the crew, and he added in a whisper, “Did you really find August? Is he all right?” Emma nodded silently. A sigh of relief escaped Will’s lips. 

Glancing past Emma, Will glared at Killian. “I have a couple of severely bruised ribs you need to answer for, pirate, but right now we have bigger problems." 

Killian offered him a half grin. “Sorry, mate. All I could see was you pulling the good lady away from my ship against her will. Bad form, that.”

Ignoring Killian, Will braced his hands on Emma’s shoulders. “As soon as word got out you were gone, Walsh and Cora blocked the port. They are threatening any ships that come close. We need to get you both home, and soon.” Emma’s heart jumped to her throat. _He’s threatening my kingdom, our people_ , she thought, and looked at Killian. He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Mr. Smee, who gave a swift nod and jogged away.

Will huffed out a breath, but gave Emma an appraising look. “You look good, Ems. I take it the _sea_ agrees with you,” he said, raising an eyebrow at Emma, who quickly found the wood of the deck simply fascinating. She heard Killian snicker beside her, and she rewarded him with a jab in the ribs. 

A distinct “Oooof!” drew the attention of those on the deck back to the railing. Another man climbed over the deck railing—or rather stumbled over—and staggered onto the ship. Trying to maintain his footing, he jumped up awkwardly and dusted off his bright green, embroidered vest. He ran a hand through his thin, brown hair, and smiled when he saw Emma. “Ah, Princess Amelia,” he said, heading toward her, only to trip over a rope on the deck. When he reached her, he bowed deeply. “I am Prince Walsh, and I have come a great distance to save you.”

Emma curtsied before him, and transported her back to the ballroom—beset by suitors who knew only of her title and her wealth. She looked up and met Walsh’s brown eyes, and caught the uncertainty that lingered in them—the same look she possessed when her mother introduced her to the sons of her many, many friends. _Maybe he doesn’t want to be here either_ , the fleeting thought drifted in her mind. She could see herself in that ballroom with Walsh standing before her, a combination of nerves and kind reluctance. _I probably would have agreed to dance with him_ , she realized. 

She forced herself to offer him a light smile. “Prince Walsh, it is good to make your acquaintance at last. But, as you can see, I am not in need of saving.” She looked at the crew, but made sure to avoid Killian’s eyes. Emma knew she if she looked at him, she could never be able to smile casually at the man who was forcing her to leave the Jolly Roger. Even worse, if Killian even suspected the fear that seized her heart at the thought of losing him, she knew he would do anything to stop her. 

Behind her, Emma heard the sound of a small sail unfurling. She peeked behind her, to see Nibs casually standing at the wheel. _We’re turning_ , she thought. _He’s preparing to run_. Walsh tossed a questioning look over Emma’s shoulder. Raising her voice to let words ring loudly, Emma called, “These fine men have helped me rescue my brother, and we are happily journeying back to MistHaven.” Walsh turns his attention back to her. _And I won’t let you harm them—any of them_ , she added silently.

Walsh’s smile faltered for only a second, but Emma caught it. “So your brother is well. That is a relief,” he said with a warmth that didn’t fully reach his eyes. Any false sense of connection Emma might have felt for Walsh died in that moment, and pure anger flashed through Emma. _He knew. He knew about August_ , she thought. _All those men lost, attacked in the dark by cowards_. She took a step toward Walsh, but Killian ducked in front of her. 

“Yes, your highness,” Killian said with a bow to Walsh. “The prince of MistHaven is, indeed, safely on board my ship. And anxious to see a fellow royal, I am sure.” 

Walsh surveyed Killian with a look somewhere between distaste and dismissal. “And who are you?” he asked. 

“My apologies. Captain Killian Jones.” He gave Walsh a look of deep concern. “As much as I am sure it pains you to hear this, I am sorry to say that the prince has been injured.” Walsh’s eyes widened, and Emma dug her nails into her palm. _Ignorant of how close you came to success, Prince Walsh?_ she wondered to herself. Killian continued smoothly, “It may be dangerous to move him again so shortly after his rescue. I would feel remiss in my duties to them if I allowed….” 

“Their well-being is no longer your duty, Captain,” Walsh waved a dismissive hand at Killian. He turned to Emma. “I have promised your father I will bring you home safely.”

“As have I,” said Anton in a low voice. Walsh’s head whipped to him, and tipped back slowly as his eyes scanned upward to take in the sight of the giant man.

Walsh cleared his throat nervously. “Ah yes, you must be the great sir Anton.” He inclined his head slightly as Anton reciprocated with a whisper of a bow. “Queen Snow White has a message for you. She said to thank you for taking such good care of her children…and her doves. She insisted I add that last part,” he said with a light laugh. Anton simply stared at him in silence. Walsh’s smile faded, and he looked to Emma. “So, Princess Amelia, let us go to my ship, put all this behind us, and talk of the future.” 

“Is that a future with or without the two other warships pointed at the port of MistHaven?” mumbled Will. Walsh ignored him, and called out, “Thank you, good men of the Jolly Roger, for your troubles. You will be well compensated,” he motioned to one of his men standing nearby. The man threw a sack on the deck, and the coins within it rattled. Walsh looked at Emma. “Now, my lady, shall we return you and your brother to Misthaven? My ship awaits.”

Killian stepped closer to Walsh. “I say again, _your highness_ , it would be far better for the prince and princess if they continue their journey comfortably on board the Jolly Roger.” Though his words flowed like honey, there was little hiding the steel in his voice. 

Walsh flashed Killian a light smile, and looked at his men. “I’m not quite sure what a _pirate_ considers comfort, but I can assure you, they will be well attended in my care,” he said. Waving to his men, he added with an edge of menace creeping into his tone, “Go and find the prince, will you?”

“No need to find me, I’m here,” August said, his voice drifting from the steps. Emma looked over to see two of his men carrying him as he sat on the stretcher. Dr. Whale followed close behind, oogling the warships. “Gosh, Walsh, is this big party all for me? You really shouldn’t have.” he asked, crossing his arms and surveying the warships. Emma bit back a smile. “I heard your ships were almost done. They are magnificent,” he added, tossing an impressed look at vessels surrounding them. 

Walsh nodded. “Fully functional, too,” he said with a joyful smile. The sound of the dinghies bumping up against the Jolly Roger pulled Walsh’s attention to the sea. Emma could see the ship was almost horizontal to the warships now. Walsh’s eyes narrowed, but before he could speak, Will pushed him out of the way to get to August.

Leaning down, Will wrapped his arms around his friend. “Oy! What in the hell were you doing giving us a scare like that? Were you that bloody desperate for attention?” Will smiled at August’s laugh, but it quickly fell as he surveyed the pant leg pinned at the knee. “What’s all this?”

August looked down. “Afraid I wasn’t as fast as a cannonball,” he said slowly, his eyes trained on Walsh. 

“Yes, well, we have a skilled physician aboard my ship,” said Walsh. “And I can promise you will be more comfortable there.” He waved to his men. “Bring Prince August….”

Emma moved toward Walsh, and placed a hand on his arm. The sudden contact startled him, and his eyes locked with Emma. She smiled, and did her best to channel the graceful charm she often saw in Belle. “Prince Walsh, that is most kind,” she cooed. “But I’m sure my brother would be most comfortable upon a ship he knows. He has sailed so often with Lord Scarlet, that I know we would both be happy there.” She looked down and hoped to the heavens she was managing to look somewhat coy. “Of course, if you were to join us on his ship, then perhaps you and I could get to know one another better.” _Will, Anton, and I can protect him_ , thought Emma. _And if you are there as well, Walsh, you cannot order your men to blow Will’s ship out of the water_.

A shaken cough from Killian shook Walsh’s shocked expression. He smiled at Emma. “I…I would be delighted to escort you personally home on board my cousin’s ship,” he declared, holding out an arm to her. “Come, and I will see you settled in myself.”

Emma gave him her best attempt at a dazzling smile. “Prince Walsh, that is so kind of you, but I must ask if you could make sure everything my brother needs is on board Lord Scarlet’s ship. I know it is an imposition, but it would be such a comfort if your men heard it from a leader whom they trust.”

This time, it was Will who let a distinct gagging sound escape his lips, but Walsh didn’t seem to notice. He lifted Emma’s hand to his lips, and kissed it lightly. Emma glanced at Anton and let her gaze fall to August, sending the knight a silent look to stay with her brother on the journey. He nodded slightly. 

“We shall do this together, as I hope we do all things, Lady Emma,” said Walsh, and walked over to give orders to his men. 

“If only I had been able to reach Eric’s kingdom,” said August, the disappointment permeating his voice. “There are many who want to stand against Cora. They just need to know we are ready.” He glanced at Will. “Can you get word out?” 

Shaking his head, Will answered, “They are capturing or killing any birds that fly out of MistHaven. And they didn’t allow us to leave with any on our ship.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” Killian sighed as Smee and Leroy approached their captain. “Are you ready to run when I give the signal? He asked Smee, who nodded. Emma noticed the Jolly Roger was almost fully turned around, at least enough to give her a head start. The men were scattered throughout the ship, poised ready to drop the sails.

Leroy looked at Killian. “We should make a run for it soon. The faster we get Emma from that guy, the better,” he said. 

Emma shook her head. “Killian, no. I cannot go with you,” she said. He cast her a hard look. “It was bad enough when I thought I lost August. I can’t lose you, too. Any of you,” she placed a hand on Leroy’s shoulder. “If I run, there is a chance they’ll blow this lovely ship to pieces. And I think the world needs a few more grumpy people like you in it.” Leroy crossed his arms and huffed.

Killian stepped close to Emma. “I can’t watch you simply sail away from me, Emma,” he whispered to her. 

“We’ll find another way,” she whispered back to him. She stared at Killian, locked in the aching expression consuming his blue eyes. Emma longed to grab onto him and never let go. Instead, she studied the curve of his chin, the small scar on his cheek, the way his black hair ruffled in the sea breeze. She memorized every line of his gorgeous face.

Anton placed a hand on Killian’s arm. “The queen’s message about the doves was for me.” He looked over at Walsh, who was finishing up with his men. “I know you are more of a _smuggler _, but right now I need a pirate. Do you think you might be able to reach the aviary?”__

Killian let a slow smile dance on his lips. “You mean, break into the castle and get past the guards? Who could _do_ such a thing?” Emma tried not to laugh. “Aye,” Killian said, giving Emma a wink. “I can do that for you, knight.”

Anton nodded. “Then I will continue to watch the Princess Amelia with my life. And perhaps together we can save her and her kingdom.”

Walsh returned to the group. “My men are moving the supplies Prince Augustus will need onto Lord Scarlet’s ship. Your majesties, I will lead you home,” he said in a grand manner that had Emma suppressing the slight urge to gag herself. She took Walsh’s extended arm, and walked beside August’s stretcher. 

A breathless Gep hurried to them. “Here, my boy,” he said, handing a newly fashioned peg leg and crutch to August. “I worked through the night to make it for you.” Emma thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, and he whispered to her. “There is something in the arm of the crutch that may come in handy for you both.”

As she reached the deck railing, Emma took a deep breath, the turned back to Killian. The intensity in startling, blue eyes burned through her. _No matter what happens, I will come for you_ , Killian had told Emma just after they left his cabin that morning. In the darkened hallway, Emma opened her mouth to dissuade him, but before she could speak, he crushed his lips to hers in a desperate kiss. Emma responded, wrapping her arms around him and pouring every beat of her aching heart into the feel of him. He pulled away to place two soft kisses on each side of her trembling mouth. _I would sail to ends of the Earth for you, Emma. I **will** come for you._

Anton stepped between them. “It is time to go, my lady,” he said, and guided her over the railing. She climbed into one of the small boats drifting alongside the Jolly Roger, as men lowered August beside her. Emma grabbed her brother’s hand and held tight. “It will be all right,” she whispered, as much to herself as to August. “It will be all right.”

For as long as she could, Emma locked eyes with Killian. He stood on the deck, unmoving, as his men scrambled to prepare to sail out of range of the warships. Emma climbed the rope ladder up to the deck of Will’s ship. Standing under the banner of the House of Scarlet, she watched The Jolly Roger’s sails unfurl even before the last of Walsh’s and August’s men dropped into the final, waiting dinghy. _Good_ , she thought as the beautiful craft picked up the morning breeze. 

The ship took flight across the endless sea, pulling the very heart of Emma with it. With eyes fixed on the outline of the pirate captain quickly vanishing, Emma grasped the railing, trying to drink in his dark features. She strained to hear the shouts of the men as the Jolly Roger quickly slipped away. Biting her lip to keep the tears at bay, she suspected Killian would remain in his stance as well, watching her ship disappear into the horizon. She blinked back tears that distorted the vanishing tip of the Jolly Roger’s sail. Choking back a sob, Emma heard his voice in her head. _I will come for you_. 

~CS~

The days and nights blurred together for Emma. With the large warships leading, they did not have to worry about marauders (especially since most of them appeared to be on Cora’s payroll), but the journey back home was painfully longer. The extra days held an added tinge of bitterness for her, as she wished for even a moment more with Killian. 

Emma stayed with August most of the time, working with Will and Dr. Whale to lure him into the peg leg Gep crafted for him. Though he tried to be brave, she could see the pain exhausted her brother. In the evenings, she would help him slip off the brace, and they would sit together, sharing tales of their adventures. 

“So he managed to shove a boot into Will, sweep you up, and knock Anton with enough force to push him over the side?” August laughed as Emma recreated the scene, pretending a pillow was Will rolling down the hill. “Oh man, I am _never_ letting Will live that one down. Booted by a pirate,” he snickered. August patted her hand as she sat down again. “So, Em, about this pirate you mention with every other breath…?” 

Emma looked down at August’s hand entwined with hers. “What about him?” Part of her prayed he wouldn’t say Killian’s name. Just the sound of it brought a sharp pain to her heart.

“Ems, I know you’ve been worried about me, but you’ve been like a ghost since we left the Jolly Roger,” August said. Emma turned away from him. “You barely eat or sleep. You wander the deck in the mornings before the crew is awake—yes, Anton told me—and the only time I can see any spark in your eyes is when you mention Captain Hoo…I mean Captain Jones.”

Emma pulled her hand from her brother. “Anton has a big mouth,” she muttered. 

August sighed. “He’s part giant, Em, he has big _everything_ ,” he said. Emma rolled her eyes at him. “Seriously, Emma. It’s pretty clear you have feelings for this man.”

Picking at the blanket, a thought occurred to Emma. “Do you think Walsh knows?” she asked with an edge of panic. Ever since she boarded, Walsh constantly requested her presence. Emma complied with as much time as she could stand. Every day, she bestowed him with smiles and walks along the deck. She pulled out every charming, ladylike move she could conjure. When she could force the charade no longer, she begged forgiveness and hurried back to her brother. 

August shook his head. “I don’t think he sees anything but his own rise to greatness,” he said, the disdain dripping from his voice. Emma sighed. She had to admit, August’s description of Walsh was spot on. The man obviously knew nothing about sailing, yet prattled on about his warships as if he built them with his own hands. He bragged about the vastness of Cora’s kingdom, and how much Emma would love it there. Not once did he ask her about her wishes or desires. He just _assumed_ she was actually excited to be marrying him.

Walsh talked endlessly of Emma’s beauty, to the point where she seriously had the urge to stop brushing her hair and teeth just to see what he said. He never asked her about the voyage to save August, or how her brother was faring. At first Emma hoped it was guilt eating at him, but she soon realized that all his words—his boasting and his attention toward her—were an ongoing campaign to convince Emma of the inevitability of their union. Called to dinner each night with Walsh, even the presence of Will and Anton did little to deter her growing disgust. Emma found herself gripping a fork with such force she feared it would bend in her grasp. _Better that than jab it into Walsh’s hand to get him to shut up_ , she thought. 

The nights were the worst. Emma physically _missed_ Killian’s presence. It was as if those few nights she spent with him had become the natural state of things, and everything else leading up to that point had been wrong. The few times she did drift off to sleep, she woke screaming into her pillow. But this time it was not the giants who lurked in her dreams, but the image of watching the Jolly Roger blown to bits as she stood by, helplessly reaching out to Killian standing on the deck.

For his part, Anton remained like a shadow to August and Emma. She knew he was there, testing their food, guarding their adjoined rooms, never far behind on her walks with Walsh. But rarely did he engage them in conversation. Even at dinner, he was more stoic than usual. Walsh tended to treat him like a servant, unruffled by his silence. But Emma knew the knight was watching and learning. More often than not, she caught him talking intently with Will and members of the crew. 

“Emma?” August called her from her thoughts. “The pirate? Killian?” She flinched at the sounds of his name. “What does he mean to you?” She squeezed her eyes tight, remembering how Killian had asked her the same question about August. 

Feeling the tears brim, she whispered, “Everything, August. He means everything.”

~CS~

When Will’s ship finally arrived in the port of MistHaven, an eerie quiet greeted them as they made their way down the gangplank. Two more warships did indeed hold steady at the entrance to the port, choking the traffic in what was normally a congested, lively thoroughfare.

August insisted on making his way toward the waiting carriage on his crutch and peg leg, though Emma saw what the effort cost him. A thin veil of sweat broke out over his brow by the time they made it into the carriage. “Almost home, August,” Emma said, placing her hand over his.

He gave her a weak smile. “Which one of us do think dad will kill first?” he asked with a small laugh.

Emma shrugged. “Oh, probably me,” she said. 

“Nonsense!” declared Walsh, as he lumbered into their carriage, tripping over August’s crutch. “Your return will be heralded with trumpets and glad tidings will abound!” Emma looked away to stop herself from rolling her eyes. August just let his head fall back against the carriage seat with a _whump_. 

Will sighed as he entered the carriage as well. “Do try to stop being a total wanker, cousin,” Will said, and pounded the roof of the carriage as a signal to head for the palace.

The palace proved as subdued as the port, but Snow White and David met their children just beyond the portcullis, racing to embrace them both.

“I knew you would come home. I just knew it,” said Snow, throwing her arms around the pair of them. “Thank you, Anton,” she whispered to the knight who approached from behind. 

David wrapped his arms around all three members of his family and added, “I’m not sure which of you I’m more furious with, but, _gods_ , I am glad you are home.”

August sucked in his breath, and his mother stepped back. Seeing his missing leg, her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my darling Gus!” She motioned to waiting servants. “Please, help me get the prince to his room at once.” 

“Mom, I’ll be fine,” he moaned, but Snow and the servants rushed toward him, practically carrying him inside. 

Emma looked to her father, whose features fell dark as he spied Walsh. “Your majesty!” Walsh cried out and dropped into a deep bow. “I am happy to be able to return your children to your bosom…er…your wife’s bosom….um…home.” 

David crossed his arms. “Yes, my children are back. So you can take your warships and return to Cora. Now.”

Walsh rose with his smile undeterred. “But your highness, all of my men wish to stay for the celebration, and the announcement.”

Stepping toward Walsh, David sneered at him, “The ball has been canceled, along with any _announcements_.” Walsh opened his mouth to protest, but David added, “Until my son is well, we will not go forward with any plans.” Without waiting for a reply, David grabbed Emma’s hand and headed into the palace. 

“Dad,” Emma hissed. “What if he gives the signal to attack? There are _four_ warships in the port now.”

David kept walking until Anton said in an even tone. “I think it would be best to continue with the festivities, my lord.” David stopped for a moment and looked at Anton. He sighed. 

Turning back to Walsh, he called. “You’re _welcome_ to stay with us as my son mends.” Leaning close to Emma, David murmured, “You marry that bozo and I am disowning you.” Emma bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. David pulled her into a hug. “Don’t give your dad a heart attack like that again. Okay?” Emma nodded.

The next morning, Belle burst into her room before Emma had managed to pull herself out of bed from another sleepless night. “Emma!” she yelped, and jumped onto the bed to embrace her friend. A second later, she gave her arm a light slap. “What were you thinking? Freeing a gorgeous pirate, flying onto his ship, and sailing away with him? And only sending me one dove about it? Seriously?”

Emma laughed. “Sorry, doves were in short supply out there,” she said.

Belle frowned. “They are here as well. Walsh’s men decided no doves should be released until the big _announcement_ ,” she said, putting air quotes around the final word. Belle looked at her friend. “Emma, what are you going to do? They’ve started up the plans for the ball again. The whole palace is buzzing.”

Pushing her hair from her face, Emma sighed. “Honestly, Belle, I don’t know,” she said.

A knock at Emma’s door pulled her attention away. “My lady? Your presence is requested downstairs,” called a servant through the door. “There is a…situation.”

Emma looked at Belle, who shrugged. “Thank you I’ll be right there,” said Emma.

Emma brushed the tangles from her long hair, as her friend chose a vibrant, blue dress for the princess, Emma sighed. The dress perfectly matched Killian’s eyes. She created a small braid in her golden locks and tied Killian’s leather strap to the end. _Killian_ , just the sound of his name gave her strength. 

Making their way into the ballroom, they passed dozens of servants carrying vases of flowers. Emma dodged one fast-paced servant as she entered the room. She found her parents standing next to a smug-looking Walsh. “What did I tell you about them, Princess Amelia? Never, ever trust a pirate.” He stepped to the side, and the world stopped.

There, bent over and kneeling on the floor, lay Killian—his face bloodied and his eye swelling shut. “Killian!” Emma yelled, and raced to him, seeing shackles binding his arms. It was Anton who grabbed her arm and held her back. “Let me go, Anton,” she demanded, trying desperately to yank her arm free. “Killian, are you all right?”

Killian remained curled over on himself, barely moving. Walsh raised an eyebrow. “He is _not_ all right,” he snapped. “He tried to break into the aviary, and release the doves meant to announce our engagement, my dear. I knew I should have blown his ship from the water the moment I saved you.”

Emma pulled fruitlessly at Anton’s grip. “You didn’t save me, you idiot. I wanted to stay with Killian!”

“What?” Walsh laughed, and shoved the unmoving Killian with his toe. “He’s a dirty pirate, Amelia. How could you even think of staying on that sad, little boat?”

“Because I love him!” Emma shouted. All eyes turned to her. The smile on Walsh’s lips cracked for a moment, then quickly returned. 

Walsh sighed, then walked slowly to Emma. He dropped the tenor of his voice to a slow pace, as if addressing a small child. “I don’t think you understand, my dear. We are to be married today.” 

“Not if I can help it,” August said, as he slowly made his way into the room, maneuvering his crutch.

“Nor I,” said David, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Walsh stared at them as if madness had engulfed the room. “It doesn’t matter what any of you _want_ ,” he said. “Queen Cora wants this marriage to happen. And it will happen.” He leaned into Emma. “Even if I have to blast every last building to MistHaven to rubble to make it happen.” 

A quick whistle sounded behind Walsh, and he turned. A fist connected with his chin and the crack could be heard throughout the room. Walsh went flying away, revealing Killian standing before Emma, a rather goofy smile on his bloodied lip. “Hello, my love,” he said. Pushing the unlocked shackles to the floor, he winked at her. “Sorry it took me so long to free myself. Bit tougher than your parent’s chains, I’ll admit.”

Emma lunged for Killian, throwing herself into his arms. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around her. “Miss me, did you?” he asked. 

“Step away from the princess,” Walsh growled. Emma looked behind her to see the villain had scrambled across the floor and now held a knife to August’s throat. 

“Let him go!” Emma yelled.

Walsh only laughed. “You people just don’t get it. You are _surrounded_ by warships. This kingdom is mine. No one is coming to rescue you.” 

As his last word faded, the sound of cannon fire shook the air. “I’m afraid it is your warships that are in danger,” said Anton, and another round of cannons blasted. 

Craning his neck to look out to the port, Walsh yelled, “What are you talking about? No ship can conquer my fleet!”

Killian offered Walsh a sad smile. “Perhaps not one ship or two, but 15 might,” he said. Tapping his hook to his chin, he added, “I seem to recall a rather obnoxious royal tossing a whole bag of gold onto the deck of my ship. Seems that was _just_ enough to buy off a good deal of your mother’s marauders. And with the help of Lord William of Scarlet, I’d say they have a good chance of turning your fleet to woodchips.”

Walsh pulled the knife tighter on August’s neck. With a quick move, August flicked his finger across the hold of the crutch, revealing a dagger masterfully hidden by Gep. August’s arm slashed down, driving the dagger into Walsh’s leg. The man screamed in pain and staggered, releasing August. In a flash, Anton was across the room, and scooping up Walsh by his legs. The man shrieked in desperate anger.

Snow turned to the doors. “Boys!” she yelled. The vase-holding servants streamed into the room, ripping quivers and arrows from the vases that crashed to the floor. They raced to the doorways facing the port and took aim.

Killian grabbed Emma’s hand and walked over to the upside down Walsh. “You really should have put more than six guards on the aviary,” he said. “While your boys were having fun playing poke-the-pirate-with-sticks, my men were sneaking in and freeing the birds that will fly to every kingdom in the land.” 

Emma looked out the massive doorways of the ballroom and watched a sea of white doves take flight. As Walsh’s men popped up to take the birds down, the arrows of Snow’s men surrounding the ballroom soared and felled Walsh’s soldiers before a single dove could fall.

A deep and feral scream escaped Walsh’s mouth. Emma saw him pull the dagger from his own leg, and swing wildly. Emma shoved Killian from the path of the blade. Without a word, Anton grasped Walsh’s arm, and yanked it out of the socket with a resounding pop that preceded a howl of pain. Anton then shook the man like a rag doll. “Move again and your head comes off,” he said. Anton looked at Killian, and added, “And _that_ is how I threaten someone, pirate.” 

Killian raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. Emma laughed, but the action caused her side to ache. Looking down, she noticed a small spot, turning her blue dress an oddly sick color of purple. She turned to Killian, whose piercing, blue eyes grew in concern. “Would you think less of me if I fainted in your arms again?” she asked. 

“Emma!” she heard Killian call, but she was already falling toward him. 

~CS~


	12. Endings of the Happy Sort

~CS~

As Emma crumbled against Killian, Anton moved swiftly to sweep her up in his arms and carry her down the hallway to a large servant’s room. Killian followed alongside, jogging to keep up with the giant’s great steps. He called Emma’s name repeatedly with no reply. 

As Anton lay her on her bed and assessed her wound, Emma’s mother tried to gently usher Killian out of the room, but it was only when her father grabbed him by the collar and yanked him out that Killian released her. 

Snow met them at the door of the bedroom. “David,” she said, placing her arm on his. “There are people out there dying for us, for our kingdom.” The sound of cannon fire from the battle thundered in the distance.

David nodded gravely. “You’re right,” he said. “Our sailors should be helping Will on his ship, but we’ll need to assist the guards driving the rest of Walsh’s men out of the village and the port. Glancing into the room where Anton attended Emma, he sighed. “I’ll go. You keep an eye on our daughter.” David turned to August, who was making his way unevenly down the hall as he hurried toward them. “August, please stay with your mother, and send one of the royal guards when you hear any word.” Laying his hand on Killian’s shoulder, he said, “Let’s go.”

Killian shook his head. “I can’t leave her, your highness, he said. “If…if anything happened to her,” even he heard the anguish pour into his voice. _Why did I get so close to that villain with Emma at my side?_ Killian asked himself. He looked down and closed his eyes. “It’s my fault she is laying in there.”

He felt Snow’s hand on his arm. “No, Killian,” she said gently. “This is not your fault. It’s Walsh and Cora’s.” Killian looked into the eyes of a queen and saw only compassion there, reminding him again how different they were from the royals he had known. _Of course,_ he thought, _Who else could have created such a creature as wonderful as Emma?_

A voice drifted in from deep inside the room. “Killian?” _Emma_. Killian dashed to her side. Grabbing her hand in his own, he kissed her knuckles gently. 

“Emma, my love, what were you thinking?” he whispered. Blocking out the sight of the bloody bandages on the floor, he held her hand up to his chest, hoping she could feel the rapid beat of his heart. 

Meeting her eyes that reminded him so much of the sea, he watched her smile softly. “I was thinking you only had one good arm left,” she teased, though her words came out as a mere echo of the voice he knew. Her eyes fluttered closed.

Anton stood behind Killian. “I’ve given her something for the pain. She needs rest, and you and I are needed elsewhere,” he said. He inclined his head to Snow and August, and added, “Let her family look after her.”

Killian leapt to his feet. “Aren’t we her family as well?” he demanded. “You, and I, and every man on the Jolly Roger?”

Anton nodded. “Yes, we are,” he said in a tone of quiet kindness Killian recognized from when he mended Emma on the Jolly Roger. “And right now, her family—those here and those on your ship—are waiting for you to help lead them into battle to secure Emma’s kingdom and save her people.”

Killian shut his eyes tight before he looked down at Emma, now breathing lightly in sleep. He gripped her hand tightly and leaned close to her ear. “You listen to me, Princess Amelia Ruth, whatever the rest of your overabundant name is,” he said in a low voice. “You are not going anywhere. Do you understand me, you impossibly stubborn, beautiful, extraordinary, _infuriating_ woman? Because you made a very grand declaration back in that ballroom, and I _will_ have the chance to answer it.” Killian placed her hand gently at her side, then brushed his hand along her cheek. He turned to David. “Lead the way, your majesty.”

As the three men took off running down the hallway, Killian pondered the odd image of a king, a pirate, and a giant running headfirst into battle together. _Sounds like the beginning of a racy joke_ , he thought. Yet David and Snow had trusted him when Killian walked into the palace with only a letter from Anton, contracts signed by marauders, and a few of his rugged men at his side.

Their plan has been ludicrous at best—formed in Killian’s head when he heard the jingle of gold hit the deck of the Jolly Roger, tossed so carelessly by that twerp of a prince. Before Anton followed Emma down to the dinghy, Killian hooked him and let him know—they would sail to find as many marauders as they could purchase, land at their hidden smuggler’s port near MistHaven, and dispatch a small troupe from the Jolly Roger to free the doves.

Anton’s slow smile was all the answer Killian needed. “I can get you four extra days, but that is all. And I left my maps in my cabin,” he said, placing his large hand on Killian’s shoulder. “I also left a note for the queen. You must deliver it in person, captain.” He released Killian’s shoulder, yet before he turned he added, “You give us hope, Killian.” 

They set off for dangerous waters as soon as the Jolly Roger cleared the warships. Killian hadn’t been sure the marauders would halt for his ship, even flying under the white flag with three slashes—a clear sign that they were looking to hire ships and men. The first ship they ran across had a captain as mad as a hatter.

“I’ve heard of you,” Captain Jefferson tapped the rim of his oversized hat, one of several dozen that lined the cabin where Killian stood along with Mr. Smee. “You blew up that ship, the LeFou, didn’t you? Of course, you know LeFou means The Fool, so that would make it _the_ The Fool.” The man leaned in far too closely to Killian, who simply cocked an eyebrow in response. Jefferson snorted, jumped back, and whirled in a circle. “Good for you, Gaston was an idiot.” 

Captain Jefferson was known for two things—his unpredictable behavior, and a bizarre attachment to his hats. Killian heard he came from a line of milliners, and when his father rejected a favorite design of his, it drove him mad. Killian suspected this captain was close to that mark already before he ever picked up a needle and thread. 

Jefferson strummed his fingers on the small pouch of gold coins laying on the table—an incentive to sign a contract. “So…,” He waved his arms with dramatic flourish. “Why do you wish to hire the fabulous me and my matching, unmatchable crew?” Killian bit back a sigh. 

“I want you to fight Cora’s warships in the harbor of MistHaven, with as many of your friends as I can buy,” said Killian simply, knowing it was a risk to tell any marauder of his plans, but if he could just get one on board…. “Unless you like the idea of working for the evil queen?” he added. Killian suspected the answer even before he asked. For some time, he had heard rumors of what it meant to fail Queen Cora. 

Jefferson shook his head quickly, causing his hat to wobble. “Tales have been circulating,” he said, spinning his fingers into circles. Staring at his fingers for a moment, Jefferson suddenly burst out laughing. Looking back at Killian, he wiggled those fingers toward the pirate’s chest. “Cora doesn’t sign contracts. She just rips out your heart.” He yanked back his fist.

“And I thought you were strict,” mumbled Mr. Smee. Killian clamped down on his patience. _Emma_ , he thought. _Once I get this madman on board, I’m that much closer to seeing Emma_. 

It had only been a day since he watched her lovely form grow smaller and smaller, sailing out of his life. When the ship was gone, the sight of only the open sea before him tore through his heart. It made no sense, Killian knew, to be so beguiled with a woman that the very act of breathing hurt without her there. But since moment he saw Emma spinning a slipper on her finger in that ballroom, the only thing that truly made sense was being with her. 

“So now you have an alternative possible employer—the king and queen of MistHaven—or, more aptly, their knight Sir Anton,” said Killian. 

Jefferson’s pupils grew impossibly to the size of small coins. “Oooooh, the giant. He’s a serious one.” He tapped his fingers to his lips. “Still, how do I know you will keep your end of the bargain? I don’t know you. Are you serious, too?” 

Killian held out his hand, and Smee placed a contract in it. “We’ll both sign, in the usual fashion,” he said, but Jefferson shook his head. 

Picking up the contract, Jefferson began to fold it in quick movements. “A piece of paper is just a blueprint, a design, a guide, if you will.” He placed a small sailor hat crafted from the contract lightly upon Killian’s head. “What I need is a reason, a shiny nugget of truth upon which I will launch my ship.”

Killian stared at the man in silence, letting his exhaustion at wasting his time with this lunatic show. Smee must have sensed his desire to turn on his heel and leave, because the first mate suddenly spoke up. “The captain does not do this for gold. He does it for Princess Amelia,” he said simply. Killian blanched at Smee, who shrugged. 

Jefferson clapped. “Love! Love is a brilliant nugget,” he yelled, and threw his hat into the air. Killian captured it in his hand. Jefferson lunged for it, but Killian held it aloft and smiled. With his hook, he pulled the contract hat from his head. 

“My hat for yours,” said Killian, handing Jefferson the contract. The captain quickly signed and swapped hats, placing his oversized one on his head with a sigh of contentment. 

Jefferson rang a small bell on his table. A tiny man whose hair was almost a purple hue appeared. “Mouse!” Jefferson called. “Get me four ravens! I must send word to Chessur, Abolsem, March, and Whitey—that little rabbit of a man owes me a few.” Jefferson waved Killian and Smee toward the door. “I’ll send word to the Jolly Roger when I hear from them. Now, be off with you, oh love-sick pirate. I have a battle to plan!”

Killian and Smee followed Mouse out the door. “Why in heavens name do you sail with a madman like that?” Smee asked the small man. 

Mouse turned to Smee with a lazy smile. “Because ’es never lost a battle, govena,” Mouse said. “Mad as a March hare he is, but blimey is he brilliant in a fight.”

A smile crept onto Killian’s lips as he clapped Smee on the back. “On to the next, Mr. Smee,” he said. _And closer to Emma_. 

Once Jefferson and his mates signed up, other marauders followed suit. “I guess payment by heart-ripping is not as profitable as one would think,” said Smee with a smile. He organized a contract from a captain by the name of John, who was known for always sleeping in his favorite stockings—as well as one shoe, because it was where he stashed his rum. John also signed up his brother, Jacques, who spoke with a lilting accent and called John “frére.” John warned Killian that his brother was notoriously late. Jacques, for his part, seemed highly offended, and swore he would rise before the morning bells were ringing.

Smee glanced over at the ravens they had purchased from an odd man on Jefferson’s ship named Edgar. He bred them from a large, mangy-looking bird who was injured and would fly nevermore. Edgar had somehow taught it to speak—well, it could say one word, which it repeated with an eerie precision. Smee shuddered. He turned to Killian to ask, “Should I send a note to Mary?”

“Mary? She’s quite contrary,” said Killian. He pondered the idea for a moment. “Still, couldn’t hurt to have Leroy and Bash’s brother send her some silver bells.” He added Jacques’ name to the list of marauders. “What about Blue?”

Smee shook his head sadly. “Apparently, he has a touch of narcolepsy. He fell asleep all over the ship. In the crow’s nest, haystacks they were shipping, even at the wheel once.” 

Killian crossed his name off the list, set down the quill, and rubbed his aching head. Time was up. Anton had promised him four extra days with Will’s crew slowing the journey to MistHaven. Killian had already used three of them luring as many marauders to the bay as he could. It was time now to make for the hidden cove near MistHaven, and find his way to the aviary. He glanced up at Smee. “I’ll need you to stay with the Jolly Roger, in case she gets discovered, or things do not go to plan,” Killian said. 

Smee blinked quickly. “I think my place is with you, captain,” he said with a chin lifted in slight defiance. Killian raised an eyebrow, and Smee looked down. “I mean…what I mean, sir….”

Killian laughed lightly at his fluster. “Smee,” he said gently. “I need to leave you here because you are the only one who knows the Jolly Roger as well as I. She’ll need to maneuver in a way to stay hidden, yet be ready to cut off any retreating warships.” 

The full meaning of Killian’s trust in him spread a silly grin over Smee’s face. Puffing out his chest, he nodded. “You can count on me, sir.”

Killian smiled. “Good man,” he said, and stared again at the map of MistHaven that Anton had left for him. The aviary was a distance from the hidden cove. He would need a small force, perhaps just Nibs and Curly, to help him distract the guards. He lifted the map to study the path, and caught sight of the letter Anton left with his seal—the one addressed to Her Royal Highness Queen Snow White of MistHaven in the knight’s surprisingly elegant hand. Though Killian knew he needed to keep the seal intact, he had used an old trick of holding the letter to candlelight and folding the paper slightly to see the shadow of the writing within. _I return soon with your children. Trust this man. I do. He loves her._

When he first deciphered the message, Killian nearly dropped the letter into the flame. He wasn’t sure what startled him more—the idea that the giant trusted him, or the realization that the last sentence was pure truth. _He loves her_.

Killian wandered around in a daze for the rest of the day. He almost didn’t secure the help of a powerful marauder, Ursula, because he could not wipe the smile off his face as she complained of an infestation of merpeople in her coves. _He loves her._

On the surface of it, Killian knew how ridiculous it all was—a pirate in love with a princess. _And yet I am,_ he thought. _Completely and wholly in love with Princess Amelia…Ruth?_ He laughed out loud. _Gods, I don’t even know her whole name_. Of course, that insignificant fact mattered not at all, Killian decided. She was Emma, his darling Emma who owned his heart. 

The Jolly Roger slipped into the hidden cove undetected, and Killian pulled Nibs and Curly with him in his trek to the palace. Leroy and Bash hurried toward the port and nearby village to spread the word of the coming help from the unlikely quarter of marauders.

Killian had no expectations that the royal couple would even allow him in their presence. He assumed a servant would take the note to the queen, and he would be given permission to begin his plan. Instead, when explained he was on business for Anton, the royal guard ushered him and his men into a room. Shortly thereafter a middle-aged couple hurried in to meet them. It was only when a guard bowed to them that Killian realized the resemblance of the king to his daughter. Killian gave a cursory bow as well.

He stepped toward the queen, but the guards and the king placed hands on their swords. Killian rolled his eyes and placed Anton’s letter on a table near her. She gasped and ripped open the seal Killian had worked so hard to keep intact. “David, they are coming home,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. 

Killian knew the moment she finished the note because her eyes jumped to him. For the first time since his youth, Killian felt the warmth of a blush crawl up his cheeks. The queen tilted her head at him, surveying the man who loved her daughter. An instant later, she rushed to embrace Killian. “Thank you for watching over her,” she said, and pulled back to place a hand gently on his cheek.

The king watched his wife with widened eyes. “What was in that note, Snow?” he asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow at Killian. “Who are you again?”

Snow waved him away. “He’s the man who helped save our children, and is going to help us save our kingdom.” She sat at the table, and motioned to Killian and his men to take a seat as well. “So, tell us your plan…um?” She looked at him in question.

Killian bowed now in the way his brother taught him to address admiralty. “Captain Killian Jones, ma’am, at your disposal.”

The furrow on David’s brow grew deeper. “Jones?” he asked. “You wouldn’t happen to be the captain of the Jolly Roger who danced with Emma, would you?”

Snow rolled her eyes. “David, now is not the time,” she said, and Killian’s heart clenched at the way her expression reminded him of Emma. The queen looked again at the young captain. “Killian,” she said, with a smile of approval. “We are Queen Snow White and King David, and anything you need is at your disposal.”

That evening, Killian stood with his men, the king, and the queen in the very same map room that called him to the palace not long ago. _And yet it was a lifetime ago_ , he thought. The queen explained that every other day, a feed cart hauled seeds, nuts, and meal for the vast variety of birds who flocked to the aviary. As Walsh’s men now checked the carts closely, the three would need to jump into the woods before it reached the tight, rope fences that kept predators from the birds. 

“There are guards all around the sides, so scaling the aviary is not possible,” Snow told them as they stood over an architect’s sketch of the grounds. “You’ll have to go in from the top, through the trees.”

David viewed the wide opening at the very top of the ropes with a skeptical eye. “This plan won’t do much good unless you can fly, Jones.” 

It was Nibs who choked on a laugh. “Shouldn’t be a problem for the captain, sir. Just give him a bit of rope and a wide birth.”

David’s eyes widened. “Good gravy, are you the one who booted poor Lord William as well?” He turned toward his wife. “Snow,” he said, the warning clear.

She smiled lightly. “Sounds like he is the perfect man for the job, then.” She looked to the young men by his side. “Will you be all right?” she asked. Both boys nodded, and Killian couldn’t help but stare at the queen. The few royals of which he knew would never concern themselves with their own soldiers, let alone some random pirates that tumbled in off the sea. Yet in that moment, if either lad had given a sign of uncertainty, he doubted she would have asked them to go. 

Snow offered her arm to Nibs, who took it with a blush as she led them from the room. David placed a hand on Killian’s arm. “They do this for you,” he said, inclining his head toward the young men. “I suspect I know why you do this, but I want to know for sure.” 

Killian swallowed hard. It had been a while—a long while—since he had to face an angry father. He thought for a moment about flashing a smile and offering a glib remark. Instead, he looked the king in the eye and said, “I do this for your daughter’s safety. Because her life matters to me, your highness.”

David pondered the man before him. “Does she feel the same about you?” he asked without inflection.

A quiet laugh slipped from Killian’s lips. “I’m not so sure, your majesty. But I prefer a world with Emma in it, safe and happy.”

The king’s thumb tapped the hilt of his sword. He pursed his lips, then nodded. “All right, you pirate. Let’s save this kingdom.” He offered Killian a smile, slapped him heavily on the back and turned to the door. Killian let out a breath he didn’t realize he has been holding. Before he followed the king out the door, Killian slipped a piece of parchment out of his pocket and on to the table. _Glad I could return you to your home_ , he smiled as he scooted the map of the Devaran Islands under a few other maps on the table. He patted the hairpin that still lay in his hidden breast pocket and moved to join the others.

The next morning, Killian, Nibs, and Curly hunkered down in the feed cart as it rattled toward the aviary. The cart halted near the large sign for the structure. The driver, known as “Shakes” hopped out. He pretended to examine the wheel, sighing as though a problem existed. Tearing off the canopy from the cart, he held it aloft, allowing Killian his small crew to use it as cover to race in to the woods. They heard the pounding of a mallet to “tighten” the wheel, which provided them the perfect way to cover the sound of their departure. “Thanks, William,” whispered Killian, silently hoping the man’s mad plans for the theater in MistHaven would work out.

They dashed south, and soon discovered the large tree with an X carved into it, though it would have been hard to miss that they stood near the aviary. The chirp and song of a throng of birds resounded beyond the ropes. Signaling the men to climb, Killian followed. From its height, they could see the intricate system of ropes that circled the sprawling aviary. He understood why Queen Snow had chosen this tree for her man to mark. The thick branches entwined with the ends of a massive tree that bloomed within the aviary boundaries. He smiled as he viewed the gossamer web of rope and branches that led to a heart-stopping drop to the ground. Now he knew why King David had scoffed at the plan. 

At the sight of men walking nearby, Killian raised his hook to the boys to cease their movements. The guards strolled by slowly, chatting as they rounded the rope border. Killian glanced into the aviary. He could see why the structure was so massive. Inside, a vast array of birds of every size and color gathered amid a myriad of tress, plants, and bushes. With flowers blooming and large fountains flowing into small rivers on the ground, it looked to be an Eden for every flock imaginable. It also provided a great deal of cover for Killian and his men to wait until they heard the first fire of the marauders’ cannons. 

Killian inwardly cringed at missing the battle in the harbor, but the king and queen assured him that when Lord William returned, he and their own, small fleet could lead the charge. Killian’s job was much more intricate, he knew. He and his men each carried copies of more than a dozen messages Snow and David spent the night drafting to neighboring kingdoms. They also each carried a ribbon from Snow’s hair, meant to woo the doves into trusting them to affix the small slips of paper. Then they needed to stay hidden until it was time. Once the battle began, Killian and the boys were tasked sending as many birds flying as they could. It would be a signal to that simpering, little Walsh that reinforcements were on their way.

As the guards passed, Killian surveyed the rope border. He spied a small break in the branches that might allow them to slip through. He readjusted the two flint-lock pistols tucked into his belt that were meant to help shoo the birds into the air. _No sense in giving the game away early_ , he thought. Looking at the men, Killian gestured toward the opening. The boys nodded.

Giving one last look for any approaching guards, Killian snaked his way to the end of the branch. He worked one end of the rope he carried into a loop, and tossed it toward the bulbous tree in the aviary courtyard. Hooking a large nub, Killian tightened the end and secured it onto the heavy branch beneath him. Taking a silent, deep breath, he inched his way onto the ropes, sliding along it and through the tight break in the foliage. 

When he reached the other side, he moved the rope end to a more secure branch, and signaled for the boys to follow him. Nibs made his way slowly across and reached Killian. Curly edged along the rope closely behind, but froze as the heard the sound of voices over the din of birdsong. Killian waved him forward, and Curly nodded, a renewed determination on his face. The pause in movement cost him his balance, however, and his leg slipped off the rope, pulling the rest of him downward. He hung loosely off the rope, while his foot broke through the branches. 

A shout from the guards let Killian know Curly had been spotted. With a few, choice words, Killian drew the pistols from his belt and shoved them at Nibs. He looped the rope around the branch, and sliced the loop with his hook. Winking at Nibs, he jumped from the branch and toward Curly. The young man rushed past him, sailing into the branches just as Killian zoomed toward the ground. He landed with an unceremonious _thud_ in front of four guards, rising to his feet, and dusting off his jacket. Offering a bright smile, he asked, “Hello lads, lovely day for a walk, aye?” The startled men gaped at Killian for a moment, then rushed him.

For a moment or two, Killian thought he might be able to take them. Of course, that was when there were four. When the last two crept up behind, bashed him over the head, and secured him, Killian realized this would not be his best day. Yet, as the still-conscious guards took turns whacking the captain, he spied the rustle of branches above, and knew the boys were still on their mission. He silently thanked King David for insisting they each carry copies of the notes, in case something befell one of them.

Killian fully expected to be dragged back into the dungeon. Instead he found the himself standing (all right, barely standing, mostly swaying really) in the grand ballroom, heavy shackles clamped to his arms, and facing the sneer of Prince Walsh.

“I knew this pirate was up to no good,” he said to Snow and David. Pointing at Killian, he narrowed his eyes. “You were going to try and release the doves so they could not announce my engagement. Weren’t you, pirate?” Killian shrugged, avoiding looking at the king, queen, and Sir Anton, who stood nearby. Walsh barked out a laugh. “As if THAT would stop us.” He leaned into Killian. “Did you _ever_ really think a pirate could win the heart of a lady? She could rule kingdoms with me. You can give her nothing but a rat-filled ship and the squalor of ports.”

 _Oh, you’ll pay for that remark against the Jolly Roger, you slithering swine_ , thought Killian. Before he could mete out any karmic justice to Walsh, Killian knew he had to get out of these shackles. “I believe she would prefer the rats aboard my ship, then sleeping next to one each night in a royal bed,” he spat at Walsh. In response, the prince delivered the expected—and rather flimsy—punch to Killian’s cheek. He dropped to the ground in a move that would have made old Shakes proud. 

“Rip out his heart,” Walsh called to Snow.

The queen looked at the prince, shaking with anger. “Um, we don’t really do that here,” she said with a look lingering between incredulity and disgust. 

“Oh, well then, get the princess. Let her refuse this pathetic wreck to his face,” said Walsh. Killian pressed his hand flat against the cool marble of the ballroom floor. _She is here. She is coming_ , he thought. Killian steeled himself not to jump up and run to her the moment he heard her voice. Staying on the ground, he maneuvered the hairpin from his pocket. _I really must thank Ruby for this lovely device_ , he thought as he began to jimmy the lock.

And then Killian heard her voice, calling for him, asking him if he was all right. If only he could tell her how his breathing returned, how his heart soared, and how the rightness of the world returned when she was near. Instead, he let her converse with that dolt of a prince, while he worked feverishly on the lock. _Emma_. The sound of her voice filled him, giving him strength.

“You didn’t save me, you idiot. I wanted to stay with Killian!”

A wide smile consumed Killian’s features, enabling him to stay fixed in place as that weasel jabbed him with his toe and piled on the taunts. He closed his eyes tight to stop himself from reaching out and breaking Walsh’s foot.

“Because I love him!” Emma shouted. Killian’s eyes flew open, and the breath fled his lungs. The words sank into him, and his body vibrated with what Killian could only surmise was pure joy. _She loves me. My Emma. My love_. Catching a staggered breath, Killian slowly rose. He turned toward Emma, but his view was blocked by that ridiculous, little man.

With a quick and silent step, he moved behind Walsh. Giving a quick whistle, the odious man turned and Killian felt the satisfying crunch of his fist on the man’s chin. And then Emma was in his arms, and the world righted itself…. Until it wasn’t.

Killian now ran beside David and Anton, and tried to block out the image of Emma bleeding in his arms. _Why did I let her near him?_ he cursed himself for the 100th time.

Anton, whose very legs propelled him ahead of David and Killian, paused at an aging shield hanging on the wall that covered two swords. He raised an eyebrow to the king, who nodded. Anton whipped the swords off the wall and tossed one to Killian. The shield clattered to the floor and cracked in half. David cringed. “That was Snow’s grandfather’s,” he sighed. Anton’s eyes widened slightly, but David shrugged. “Ah well, he liked his bowl, pipe, and fiddle music more than fighting. Let’s go.” And the men raced out the grand entrance of the palace.

From the hill upon which the palace stood, Killian could see the battle raging. The more than dozen marauders had surrounded the warships, blocking their entrance. At the farthest reaches, he spied the Jolly Roger firing her cannons. Flaming arrows—courtesy of Regina’s men, Killian assumed—flew toward the closest warship, setting her sail ablaze. _Well done, Smee_ , he thought. Near the port, the House of Scarlet’s banner flew alongside the few ships in the Misthaven fleet. Trader ships joined the fray as well, boxing in the warships on all sides.

The palace guard still battled the soldiers on land, and smoke could be seen from the nearby village. “Anton, head for the village. Jones, secure the port,” shouted David, as he dove into the fray of battle with his guards.

Anton nodded and his huge steps increased in pace toward the smoke. Killian charged ahead to the port. Small groups of merchants were doing their best to stop Walsh’s sailors from leaving and rejoining the warships. Killian quickly surveyed the scene, and spotted Leroy and Bash with their brother, Clark, lobbing flower vases at the men. 

Looking down the pier where the sailors tied their dinghies, Killian noticed a stack of barrels marked RUM at the edge. Running to the barrels, he sighed. “Bloody waste of rum,” he whispered, as his hook swiped at the rope holding the barrels together.

Killian started to shove the barrels over, when a familiar voice called, “Bit cliché, don’t ya think? Rolling barrels at the bad guys?” The pirate glanced to see Leroy and his brothers running toward him. Smiling, Killian pulled the cork from one of the barrels. 

“Have you ever known me to do anything without a dash of flair, Leroy?” Killian asked. He pulled a flint rock from his pocket and winked at the small man. 

Leroy dove in for a gulp of the rum before yelling, “Put your backs into it, boys!” All four of them shoved, and the pyramid of barrels crashed and careened down the pier. The shouts of the sailors preceded a cascade of splashes as the sailors leapt into the water to avoid the barrels. The pier groaned under the unexpected weight as Killian struck the flint. Catching a spark, he ignited the trail of rum. The flame raced down the pier just before the wood shuddered and collapsed. Already tumbling into the bay, the barrels roared into flame, burning the sinking dinghies as the merchants pulled the soaking sailors from the water. 

“Damn fine waste of rum,” mumbled Leroy. 

Killian nodded. “I thought so as well,” he said, looking to the men. “Ah, Clark, how have you been?” The man responded with a deep inhale, followed by a giant sneeze. “As good as you’ve even been, I see.” 

A shout of cheers came from the ships in the harbor as white flags rose from the two warships that were not sinking into the bay. With MistHaven soldiers and citizens racing to the port in the wake of Anton and David, Killian smiled. “It seems we have won the day, dear lads.”

Leroy shrugged. “Still a mess to clean up,” he said with a huff. Killian laughed. 

David approached, as everyone around him bowed. He slapped Killian lightly on the back. “Well done, Jones,” he said, before adding in a louder voice. “Well done to all!” Cheers erupted on the port. 

“Your majesty, I’d like to get back…,” Killian began. 

David nodded. “Of course, Killian,” he said. “Send word as soon as you can.” 

Leroy gaped at the king as he walked back to Anton, asking about the wounded. “Did the KING just call you Killian? What is up with that?”

Killian leaned down to the small men. “Emma is hurt, and I have to get back. Can you meet up with the Jolly Roger and let them know they did a bloody brilliant job?”

Leroy’s smile fell from his face. “Emma’s hurt? What in the beanstalk are you still doing here? Go to her!” Leroy and Clark nodded in agreement. Killian gave them men a quick smile, and dashed back to the palace.

The room where he left Emma was still dark when Killian quietly entered. Leaving the door open a crack to let in some light, he approached the bed slowly and took a seat next to the rumpled covers. Glancing around the room, the shadows that fell from the hallway revealed an oversized chair, a vast fireplace, and a wall lined with leather-bound books. Killian leaned over to pull a small painting from the nightstand, and saw a young girl with familiar blonde locks, hugging a massive man of Anton’s description. A slight smile danced in the corner of the giant’s mouth. “Ah, at last we know what makes you smile,” said Killian. His eyes adjusted enough to take in the bed, and his stomach plummeted to his feet. Killian threw out a hand to pull back the covers to see an empty bed. _Where is she?_

Dashing into the hallway, he nearly collided with August. The prince must have caught Killian’s panicked expression. “She’s fine,” he said. The breath rushed back to Killian’s lungs. “Emma is in the ballroom.” Smiling, August added, “Maybe you can talk some sense into her?”

His brows furrowed in confusion, Killian made his way quickly to the ballroom. As he approached, he heard raised voices. 

“And I tell you, you are NOT going out there, Emma,” shouted Snow. “You are already wounded, and I will not….”

Emma’s voice cut off her mother’s command. “Not up for debate, mom. I have to know if they are all right.” 

Killian leaned on the edge of the ballroom door. There stood his darling Emma, dressed for battle. Her lovely face still pale from her wound, and sporting a look of sheer determination. He smiled. “Afraid you missed the battle, my love,” he said, causing both women to jump. 

Emma’s features lit up at the sight of Killian. Looking as if she might rush to him again, he ran to her side. “Easy, Emma. It’s all right,” he said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “Walsh’s men surrendered. Your father and Anton are safe.”

“And you’re here,” Emma sighed and leaned into him.

Killian closed his eyes to resist the urge to squeeze her tighter against him. “Yes, my love. I’m here,” he whispered. 

Snow cleared her throat and Killian reluctantly pulled away from Emma. “I’ll go check on the villagers and David,” she said. Walking past them, she paused and gave Killian a soft kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Killian, for so much.” He nodded.

Killian slid his hand into Emma’s and led her to a nearby chair. “So, would you like me to recount my daring heroics first, or shall we discuss the fact that you are violently in love with me?” he asked, kneeling down next to her. 

A crimson blush rushed over Emma’s face, though she still managed to roll her eyes. “Who said anything about violently?” she said in a teasing voice, yet was unable to meet Killian’s gaze. 

Killian raised his hand to her chin, and drew her sea-green eyes to his. A whisper of a laugh escaped his lips as he caught the flicker of uncertainty that raced there. _How could she doubt for even a moment that I am hers?_ , he thought. “Ah, yes. I must have been mistaken,” he said quietly. “It seems that I am the one violently in love with you.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before a radiant smile captured her lips. “You are?” she asked.

Killian shrugged. “Of course, my love, how else would a pirate love the one woman who brings light to his heart, and has stolen his very soul?”

Emma’s smile tipped into a mischievous grin. “I thought you were more of a….”

Killian pulled his lips to hers in a gently caressing kiss, letting the tender touch tell her the myriad of ways he loved her. Her arms roamed across his back, and she broke the kiss only to ease him closer to her. “I _do_ love you, Killian Jones,” she whispered in his ear, and Killian felt sure his heart would burst from those simple words. 

“And I love you, Amelia…Ruth…?” his words stumbled. 

Emma laughed softly. “Emma is fine,” she said.

Killian shook his head slightly. “No,” he said. “Emma is perfect.” 

~CS~

Killian Jones awoke with a splitting headache. _Nothing new there_ , he thought as he slowly realized he had fallen asleep sitting up. Cracking open one startling blue eye, Killian blinked rapidly against the morning light beaming into the room.

Against him, Emma stirred and pulled her arm tighter around his waist. Killian smiled. The cry of seagulls was tempered by the sound of waves slapping against the Jolly Roger as it rocked in the port of MistHaven.

 _Ah yes, the victory feast to celebrate the end of the battle_ , thought Killian. It was late in the night when Emma had been able to pull herself away from the crowds and sneak aboard the ship. It had been more than a week of treating the wounded, repairing the village, and assessing the damage to the port. And all the while, doves returned from every corner of the land, pledging assistance to Snow and David in their upcoming fight against Cora. 

It would be weeks more before they could fully clear what was left of the warships out of the bay. Those marauders who wished to stay and salvage from the warships were allowed, though many decided to return to the sea once their contracts were fulfilled. Some, like Jefferson and John, offered to stay on and assist in building MistHaven a larger fleet for the battles ahead. 

Killian ran his fingers gently down Emma’s back. A lazy smiled curled on her soft lips. “Good morning, Princess Amelia,” he said, leaning down to lightly kiss the top of her head. 

“Morning, Admiral Jones,” she answered in a sleepy voice. Killian borrowed her signature move and rolled his eyes. It had been Anton’s idea to place Killian in charge of constructing a navy for the king and queen. He knew it was an attempt by the giant to keep him—and thus Emma—in MistHaven, yet he, Emma, and August dove into the project.

With David insisting Killian take the reward for returning August, he split the coins evenly with each of his men. Some decided to retire, like Sprat—who planned to buy a butcher shop for his wife—and Gep, who found a place in the palace as a craftsman. Others, like Nibs and Curly, opted to make this new navy their home.

For his part, Killian was content to stay where Emma was. He knew eventually they would set back out to the sea that called them both. Sliding his hand to the mattress, he gently patted the place where the ring he had purchased rested. Someday, when they were on the open sea once again, he would pull out the emerald that had so reminded him of her eyes in that shop window. He would ask the question that determined his future—the same one he now realized was on his lips the moment he heard her voice calling across an empty ballroom.

Killian doubted he would be down on one knee when he proposed to Emma. More likely they would be flying through the air or in the middle of battle, knowing them. He chuckled to himself. “What is it, Killian?” Emma asked, pulling herself up to his chest.

“Nothing, my love,” he said. “Just thinking of endings of the happy sort.” He placed his head gently upon Emma’s, closed his eyes, and drifted back to sleep. 

The End

~CS~


End file.
